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1 

2 

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1  2  3 

4  5  6 


M^ 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  IVEST  SERIES 
EDITED  BY  RIPLEY  HiTCHCOCK 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD 


I .  i!i|ip(rpi|ii!|p«i)^ip(f:ili(^™ 


mrwmmmmsm 


^De  Siorv  of  m  Hint  Seriei 

Edited  by  Ripley  Hitchcock. 
Each,  illustnited,  lamo,  cloth,  $1.50. 

tM  Story  of  tiK  RailrMd. 

By  Cy  Warman,  author  of  "The  Express  Messenger," 
etc. 

This  book  pictures  tibe  building  of  the  earlier  transcontinental  lines 
across  the  true  West.  It  tells  the  story  of  the  engineer  who  found  the 
way  and  who  was  the  pioneer  of  permanent  civilizatioQ  among  the  In- 
dians and  buffialo  of  the  plains  and  in  the  mountains.  Historically,  the 
Look  is  valuable  because  it  gives  a  comprehensive  sketch  o''  a  great 
subject  in  a  brief  compass,  and,  furthermcre,  the  stxanee  and  picturesque 
phases  of  life  which  are  depicted  are  full  of  immediate  interest.  An 
actual  war,  now  fo.-gotten,  for  the  possession  of  a  cafion  in/DoloraJo,  is 
vividly  described  by  the  author,  who  has  shared  in  the  work  of  the  rail- 
road men,  and  who  made  a  special  journey  through  the  West  to  gather 
fresh  material  for  this  valuable  and  entertaining  book. 

ClK  Story  of  tDe  £owDoy. 

By  E.  Hough.    Illustrated  by  William  L.  Wells  and  C.  M. 

Russell. 

"Nothing  fresher  or  finer  has  been  written  in  many  a  day.  ...  An 
admirable  y/ork."—C/iicag'c  Evening  Post. 

*'  An  unusually  vivid  and  interesting  picture  of  Western  life." — New 
York  Herald. 

ClK  Story  of  tbe  mine. 

Illustrated  by  the  Great  Comstodc  Lode  of  Nevada.     By 
Charles  Howard  Shinn. 

"The  author  has  written  a  book  not  alone  full  of  information,  but  re- 
plete with  the  true  romance  of  the  .American  mine."— 7V/w  York  Times. 

Cbe  Story  of  tDe  Tndiaii. 

By  George  Bird  Grinnell,  author  of  '♦  Pawnee  Hero 
Stories,"  "  Blackfoot  Lodge  Tales,"  etc. 

"  In  every  way  worthy  of  an  author  who  as  an  authority  upon  the 
Western  Indians  is  second  to  none.  A  book  full  of  color,  abounding  in 
observation,  and  remarkable  in  sustained  interest ;  it  is  at  the  same  time 
characterized  by  a  grace  of  style  which  is  rarely  to  be  looked  for  in  such 
a  work,  and  which  adds  not  a  little  to  the  charm  of  it" — London  Daily 
C\roHu:le. 

IN  PREPARATION. 

The  Story  of  the  Trapper.    By  Gilbirt  Pakker. 

The  Story  of  the  Soldier. 

The  Story  of  the  Rxplorcr.    By  Ripley  Hitchcock, 


D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY,  NEW  YORK. 


"WWi* 


.H^," 


The  Engineer. 
(Running  the  line  with  a  transit  on  the  Plains.) 


y 


THE  STORY  OF  THE 
RAILROAD 


BY 

CY  WARMAN 

AUTHOR   OF 
TALES   OF   AN   ENGINEER,    THE   EXPRESS   MESSENGER 
SNOW  ON  THE  HEADLIGHT,    THE  WHITE  MAIL,      * 
PAPER-TALK,    ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW   YORK 
D.    APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 

1898 


V 


£. 


I* 


COFTRieHT,  1808, 
By  D.  APPLBTON  AND  COMPANY. 


TO 

THE    L'ATHFINDER, 

Whose  back  above  the  Desert  bent, 
Who  set  the  stakes  to  mark  the  Trail- 

The  Trackman,  and  the  President, 
And  all  the  Children  of  the  Rail. 

Cy  Waeman. 


"  When  I  think  how  the  railroad  has  been  pushed  through  this  un- 
watered  wildemeaa  and  haunt  of  savage  tribes;  how,  at  each  stage  of 
the  construction,  roaring,  impromptu  cities  full  of  gold  and  lust  and 
death  sprang  up  and  then  died  away  again,  and  are  now  but  wayside 
stationii  in  the  desert ;  how  in  these  uncouth  places  jtigiailed  pirates 
worked  side  by  stds  with  border  ruffians  and  broken  ruen  from  Europe, 
talking  together  in  a  mixed  dialect,  mostly  oaths,  gambling,  drinking, 
quarreling,  ana  mtirdering  like  woL  -:s ;  how  the  plumed  hereditary  lord 
of  all  America  heard  in  this  last  fastness  the  scream  cf  the  ^Bad 
Medicine  Wagon^  charioting  his  foes;  and  then  when  I  go  on  to 
remember  that  all  this  epical  turmoil  was  conducted  by  gentlemen  in 
frock  coats,  and  with  a  view  to  nothing  more  extraordinary  than  a 
fortune  and  a  subsequent  visit  to  Paris,  it  seems  to  me,  I  own,  cu  if 
this  railway  were  the  one  typical  achievement  of  the  cge  in  which  we 
live ;  as  if  it  brought  together  into  one  plot  all  the  ends  of  the  world 
and  all  the  degrees  of  social  rank,  and  offered  the  busiest,  the  most  ex- 
tended, and  the  most  varying  subject  for  an  enduring  literary  work. 
If  it  he  romance,  if  it  be  contrast,  if  it  be  heroism  that  we  require, 
what  was  Troy  town  to  this  f  ^^—Robebt  Louis  Stevenson,  in 
Across  the  Plains, 
vi 


EDITOR'S  PEEFACE. 


The  Story  of  the  Railroad,  like  other  volumes  in 
the  Story  of  the  West  scries,  is,  in  its  essence,  the 
story  of  a  man.  As  to  the  man—that  is,  the  :;ypical 
fi/5'ure  to  be  chosen  as  the  personified  genius  of  trans- 
continental railroad  building  in  the  empire  .vest  of  the 
Missouii— thfire  may  ;ery  well  be  a  variety  of  opinions. 
The  firet  white  men  to  traverse  the  future  pathv.ays 
of  Western  railroads  were  Spaniards,  whose  suggestive 
roles  wer-  those  of  a  fugitive  and  a  soldier  seeking 
gold.  Long  after  them  came  the  true  explorers,  Lewis 
and  Clarke,  Pike,  and  others  whose  story  is  to  be  told 
in  another  volume  of  this  series. 

In  the  earlier  years  of  the  republic  there  were 
statesmen,  like  Gallatin,  who  dreamed  of  a  transcon- 
tinental highway,  and  later  private  citizens,  like  Whit- 
ney, who  were  pioneers  in  a  movement  which  devel- 
oped slowly  but  logically,  with  its  accompaniments  of 
congressional  oratory  and  long-sitting  committees,  and 
of  explorations,  reconnaissances,  surveys,  and  bulky  re- 
ports, and  the  various  military,  political,  and  commer- 


Vll 


•  •• 

Vlll 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILHOAD. 


cial  arguments  which  were  accentuated  by  our  civil 
war.  All  this  represented  a  growing  recognition  of 
the  inevitable,  a  recognition  in  which  politicians 
were  frequently  outstripped  by  private  citizens,  some 
from  the  West,  then  so-called,  with  an  actual  knowl- 
edge of  the  Western  country,  and  some  from  the 
East,  led  on  by  the  chances  for  new  investments. 
The  man  of  the  West  and  the  Eastern  financier  with 
his  European  connections  co-operated  more  close- 
ly than  the  usual  railroad  history  indicates.  The 
canvas  is  crowded  with  figures — ^the  explorer,  scout, 
trapper,  hunter,  soldier,  the  propagandist,  politician, 
lobbyist,  banker,  promoter,  and  European  capitalist; 
but  these  were  not  the  men  who  did  the  work,  although 
through  them  the  work  became  posiiible.  The  Story 
of  the  Eailrcad,  as  Mr.  Warman  has  sketched  it  in  his 
graphic  pages,  is  not  a  history  of  proselyting,  of  finance 
qr  of  politics,  or  of  the  scientific  side  of  construction. 
Very  naturally,  these  topics  and  other  essential  phases 
of  this  great  subjact  are  touched  upon,  but  in  large 
part  this  book  is  the  story  of  the  strange  life  which 
began  with  and  accompanied  the  building  of  a  trans- 
continental highway.  Armies  of  men  under  thousands 
of  officers  shared  this  liie,  and  vanished  when  their 
work  was  done,  leaving  the  ashes  of  their  camp  fires 
aT\d  unnumbered  nameless  graves.  Surveyors,  en- 
gineers, puperintendents,  foremen,  bosses,  track  layers, 
shovellers  on  the  r'ump,  and  their  companions  of  ra^^k 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE. 


IX 


Iiigh  and  low,  all  toiled  together  to  clear  a  way  across 
the  buffalo  preserves  of  the  Indians  and  through  the  , 
secret  places  of  the  mountains.  It  was  a  series  of 
titanic  labours,  man  pitted  against  Nature  in  the  in- 
stant shock  of  contest,  and  it  is  here,  I  think,  that 
we  find  the  typical  figure  in  the  engineer  who  sought 
out  the  way  and  built  vhe  road.  It  was  the  engineer 
who  traced  the  route,  making  his  painful  progress 
across  the  wild  plains,  sometimes  guarded  by  soldiers, 
sometimes  trusting  to  Providence  and  his  "  gun."  It 
was  the  engineer  whj  climbed  over  the  ice  of  mountain 
streams,  who  was  let  down  from  crags  by  ropes,  who 
crawled  along  trails  known  only  to  the  mountain 
sheep,  and,  daring  storms,  starvation,  and  the  venge- 
ance of  the  red  men,  penetrated  the  mountain  fast- 
nesses rarely  entered  even  by  his  predecessors,  the 
trappers,  hunters,  and  scouts  of  the  heroic  age  of  the 
West.  His  mission  was  a  practical  one,  but  none  the 
less  romantic.  The  level  and  chain,  the  six-shooter 
and  the  frying  pan,  maj  be  less  picturesque  than  hel- 
ix^-pit,  sword,  and  lance,  but  they  may  stand  for  an 
infinitely  finer  heroism.  Only  McAndrew's  "  damned 
ijjits  "  for  whom  the  poetry  and  romaiif^  of  the  sea 
have  vanished  with  the  passing  of  white  sails  could 
fail  to  see  the  romance  of  transcontinental  pathfind- 
ing,  the  heroic  aspect  of  the  men  who  led  the  way. 
Some  of  these  engineers  sacrificed  their  lives  to  duty 
as  simply  and  nobly  as  anv  s'^ldiers  behind  their  coun- 


m 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


try's  flag.  They  were  the  soldiers  of  civilization,  open- 
ing a  way  that  peace  might  follow.  Some  of  them 
passed  from  reconnaissances  and  preliminary  surveys 
to  the  work  of  construction,  ruling  armies  of  men  in 
wild  camps  which  were  constantly  moving  onward. 
They  were  responsible  for  the  expenditure  of  fortunes. 
Their  followers  knew  little  other  law  than  their  word, 
and  there  were  times,  as  in  the  early  history  of  the 
Union  Pacific,  when  no  authority  seemed  to  avail 
against  the  recklessness  of  life  at  the  head  of  the  rails. 
The  engineer  in  charge  was  the  local  court  of  last  re- 
sort for  all  questions,  from  construction  in  its  manifold 
details  and  the  incessant  troubles  with  contractors  to 
complaints  of  the  commissariat.  There  were  higher 
officers  behind  him,  but  he  was  the  chief  executive  on 
the  spot,  the  general  commanding  in  the  field.  Some 
of  these  engineers  have  remained  as  high  officials  of 
transcontinental  lines,  and  others  sacrificed  themselves 
to  the  large  tasks  of  construction,  or  have  passed  else- 
where. Whatever  their  fate,  their  mission  was  a  great 
one,  an  historical  epic  which  Americans  should  pre- 
serve,. Indirectly,  therefore,  since  the  field  is  a  vast  one, 
we  may  read  in  this  volume  the  story  of  the  engineer. 

If  the  title  suggests  a  special  railroad,  the  difficul- 
ties inseparable  from  such  a  choice  will  be  evident, 
even  if  the  plan  of  this  series  admitted  of  the  categori- 
cal history  of  one  branch  of  a  subject  rather  than  the 
presentation  of  the  type,  the  genius  of  the  general 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE.  ai 

theme.  The  Union  Pacific,  naturally  the  first 
thought,  is  linked  at  the  outset  with  politics,  the  Credit 
Mobilier,  and  continuing  financial  complications,  and 
the  general  theme  is  perhaps  somewhat  hackneyed. 
The  checkered  career  of  the  Northern  Pacific  has  been 
described  in  detail  by  Mr.  E.  V.  Smalley,  and  the 
Southern  Pacific  has  lacked  many  of  the  phases 
which  have  added  interest  to  other  roads — for  ex- 
ample, the  Atchison,  Topeka  and  Santa  F6.  The 
picturesqueness  and  freshness  of  the  Santa  Fe's  story 
have  induced  Mr.  Warman  to  make  this  in  a  sense  the 
typical  railroad  of  his  book.  Since,  however,  he  is 
presenting  pictures  of  life  rather  than  detailed  records, 
he  has  drawn  his  illustrations  of  the  life  of  railroad 
builders  from  tie  inner  history  of  several  of  the  earlier 
transcontinental  lines  of  the  West.  The  result  is  a 
general  view  of  characteristic  phases  of  this  life  which 
has  a  completeness,  from  the  standpoint  of  human  in- 
terest, not  realized  before,  and  impossible  of  realization 
either  in  the  orthodox  railroad  histories  or  in  fugitive 
anecdotes  of  construction-camp  life.  That  is  not  a  life 
to  be  described  by  hearsay  or  at  arm's  length,  and  the 
vividness  of  Mr.  Warman's  descriptions  shows  him  to 
have  been  a  part  of  that  which  he  records  in  his  book. 
The  figures,  dates,  names,  and  dry  facts,  which  might 
readily  be  multiplied  to  so  appalling  an  extent  in  a  de- 
tailed history  of  such  great  enterprises,  Mr.  Warman, 
as  far  as  possible,  has  happily  put  aside  in  favour  of  a 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


personal  interest,  which  will  give  to  his  readers  an 

appreciati9n  of  this  phase  of  our  Western  history  that 

statistics  and  bare  records  can  never  yield.    He  has 

taken  account  of  the  vast  tasks  of  organization  and 

general  direction  in  the  East  as  in  the  West,  but  his 

book  is  dedicated  first  of  all  to  those 

"  Whose  backs  above  the  desert  bent, 
Who  set  the  stakes  to  mark  the  trail." 

The  Story  of  the  Railroad  might  be  traced  back  to 
the  primeval  convulsions  which  rent  openings  in 
mountain  walls,  and  the  early  workings  of  the  water 
courses  which  cut  pathways  for  the  engineers.  With- 
out hyperbole,  however,  we  can  see  in  the  trails  of 
elk  and  other  animals  suggestions  and  even  paths  which 
pointed  the  way  for  the  rails.  The  mountain  lore 
of  animals  and  the  red  men  was  inherited  by  the  early 
trappers,  hunters,  and  fur  traders  of  the  heroic  age 
of  the  West — men  like  Chouteau,  Sublette,  and  scores 
of  others.  Many  of  them  preceded  the  better-known 
figures  of  scouts  like  Kit  Carson  in  a  life  as  adven- 
turous and  fearless  as  that  of  the  Norsemen,  but  their 
sagas  have  rarely  touched  poet  or  historian.  It  was  the 
curious  wisdom  of  ancients  of  the  mountains  like  Jim 
Bridger  that  helped  to  solve  many  a  dubious  question 
in  the  building  of  the  earlier  transcontinental  lines. 
They  acted  their  part  in  aiding  to  map  out  laiiroad 
routes.  They  had  acted  a  similar  part  before  in  pilot- 
ing emigrant  wagons,  or  accompanying  the  caravans  of 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE. 


xm 


the  Santa  Fe  trail,  or  in  furnishing  counsel  as  to  the 
route  of  the  Pony  Express.  But  this  time  their  hands 
were  turned  against  themselves,  for  the  railroad  to 
which  they  gave  of  their  quaint  wisdom  meant  the 
passing  of  scout,  trapper,  and  wild  hunter  as  surely  as' 
the  passing  of  the  buffalo.  Yet,  as  I  have  said,  these 
shaggy  heroes  of  other  days  were  not  the  first  of  the 
white  men  to  precede  the  locomotive.  Nearly  four 
hundred  years  ago  the  piteous  figure  of  Alvar  Nunez 
Cabeza  de  Vaca  staggered  across  the  plains  of  Texas, 
and  his  desperate  course  possibly  anticipated  in  a  gen- 
eral way  the  route  of  the  Southern  Pacific.  A  few 
years  later  Coronado,  marching  northward  from  Mex- 
ico to  Cibola,  and  eastward  in  search  of  Quivira,  tra- 
versed a  portion  of  the  future  pathway  of  the  Atchison, 
Topeka  and  Santa  Fe.  Both  the  fugitive  colonial  offi- 
cer and  the  soldier  represented  the  first  fruits  of  that 
wonderful  search  for  a  western  passage  to  the  Indies 
which  sought  an  opening  from  the  northern  ice  of 
Labrador  to  the  Straits  of  Magellan,  and  effected 
among  other  results  the  discovery  of  Columbus.  The 
thought  which  spurred  Columbus,  Amerigo  Ves- 
pucci, Cabot,  Frobisher,  and  Magellan  reappears  in 
our  own  early  discussions  of  a  transcontinental  high- 
way as  a  means  of  opening  up  trade  with  the  Orient. 
It  is  curious  to  find  this  argument  reiterated  in  the 
earlier  discussions  of  the  subject,  to  the  neglect  of  the 
enlarging  possibilities  of  our  own  West,  but  there  are 


XIV 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


those  who  will  urge  that  the  future  may  justify  the 
argument.  The  Spanish  lust  for  gold  discovered  a 
Western  empire,  and  the  last  fragments  of  that  empire 
are  now  wrested  from  incompetent  hands  by  the  people 
of  the  land  which  literally  blocked  the  way  of  the  ear- 
lier treasure  seekers,  and  now  turns  its  own  face  to- 
ward the  Orient.  In  the  eternal  chase  of  the  golden 
fleece  the  Spanish  explorers  and  conquistadores  have 
found  worthier  successors,  and  the  earlier  dreams  of 
transcontinental  railroads  as  highways  to  the  Orient 
seem  to  promise  a  larger  measure  of  realization.  On 
what  may  be  termed  the  picturesque  side  of  history 
the  suggestiveness  of  the  theme  is  obvious. 

A  word  is  called  for  regarding  the  illustrations  of 
Mr.  Warman's  book.  It  would  have  been  easy  to  mul- 
tiply pictures  of  scenery  and  of  deserving  features  of 
mountain  construction.  Some  of  these  have  been  se- 
lected with  a  view  not  merely  to  their  pictorial  effective- 
ness, but  rather  to  their  value  as  suggestions  of  prob- 
lems offered  in  the  life  of  the  engineer.  Of  this  life 
and  the  character  of  construction  camps  photography 
furnishes  little,  and  Mr.  Clinedinst  has  therefore  made 
a  very  careful  review  of  a  theme  which  was  not  new  to 
him,  and  his  use  of  the  material  which  he  has  collected 
has  placed  before  us  certain  personal  phases  of  the 
theme  with  a  directness  and  vividness  which  comport 
most  happily  with  Mr.  Warman's  brilliant  work. 

R.  M. 


AUTHOR'S  PREFACE. 


This  book  is  the  fourth  volume  of  The  Story  of  the 
West  series,  and  consequently  the  roads  whose  history 
is  chronicled  in  its  pages  are,  with  a  single  exception, 
Western  lines — with  the  understanding  that  there  is 
no  West  east  of  the  Missouri  River.  The  one  exception 
is  the  Canadian  Pacific,  the  last  and  longest  of  the 
through  lines  across  the  continent,  connecting  the 
Atlantic  with  the  Pacific;  but  the  eastern  section  of 
the  Canadian  Pacific  was  small  indeed  when  the  road 
was  being  built. 

Since  the  completion  of  the  pioneer  roads,  a  num- 
ber of  extensive  systems  of  railroad  have  penetrated 
what  a  half  century  ago  was  the  uninhabited  and 
apparently  uninhabitable  West.  To  tell  the  story,  in- 
teresting though  it  might  be,  of  all  or  any  one  of  them 
in  detail,  would  be  to  take  the  reader  over  the  same 
scenes,  showing  the  same  pictures  again,  only  softened 
and  subdued  by  the  civilizing  influence  of  the  locomo- 
tives of  the  pioneer  roads. 

A  number  of  these  newer,  shorter  lines,  linked 


XT 


xvi 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


together  by  close  traffic  arrangements,  make  through 
lines  across  the  continent,  which  are  as  swift  and  safe 
and  sure,  as  comfortable  and  convenient  for  the  trav- 
eller as  a  through  line  under  one  management;  for 
travellers  are  no  longer  expected  to  change  cars  in  a 
civilized  country. 

Of  these  comparatively  new  lines  I  have  endeav- 
oured to  make  brief  mention  in  the  closing  chapter  of 
this  book. 

Lack  of  space  prevents  the  publication  of  the 
names  of  the  directors,  presidents,  ex-presidents,  pas- 
senger agents,  and  others  who  have  helped  in  the 
making  of  this  story.  To  each  and  all  of  them,  how- 
ever, the  author  is  deeply  indebted. 

*  Cy  Wabman. 


CONTEKTS. 


CHAPTEB 

Editoe's  peepacb   . 
Author's  peeface  . 
Introduction  . 
I.— The  origin  op  the  idea 
IT.— Early  exploeations  and  surveys 
III. — The  building  op  the  eoad  . 
IV.— The  tombs  op  the  teail  makers 
v.— The  meeting  op  the  eails 
VI.— A  BEUSH  with  the  Sioux 
VIL-Thb  Atchison,  Topeka  and  Santa  Fi 
VIII.— The  sbee  op  the  Santa  Fi. 
IX.— Life  in  a  qeadino  camp 
X—Peopling  the  great  American  Desert 
XI.— The  road  reaches  the  Rockies  . 
XII.— The  invasion  op  New  Mexico     . 
XIII.— The  Grand  CaSon  war 
XIV.— Incidents  op  the  early  days 
XV.— The  Denver  and  Rio  Grande 
XVI.— The  Northern  Pacific 
XVII.— The  Canadian  Pacific  . 

XVIII.^ROAD  MAKING  IN  MeXICO 

XIX.— The  opening  of  Oklahoma  . 

*  xvn 


PAOB 
.      Vii 

•       XT 

1 

7 
.  18 
.  81 
.  46 
63 
66 
75 
83 
93 
103 
119 
126 
135 
158 
171 
179 
197 
213 
332 


xviii  THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 

CHAPTER 

^^« — The  railroad  enoineer       >'.,,,    231 

XXI.— At  the  front        .,.,,,  .    241 

XXII.— The  railroad  and  the  people    ...       .  ,    254 

XXIII.— The  beginnings  of  the  express  business  .  .    261 

XXIV. — The  West  to-day  .       .       .       ,       .       ^  o?! 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Thk  Engineer 

At  the  Head  of  the  Rails 

Deivino  the  Last  Spike      . 

CaSon  op  the  Rio  Las  Animas 

Holding  the  CaSTon     , 

View  of  Marshall  Pass     . 

The  Royal  Gorge,  Colorado 

"S  "-Trestle  on  Cceur  d'Alene  Branch 

Viaduct  Construction 

A  Phase  of  Bridge  Construction 

In  the  Mountains 

•  •  • 

The  Rush  for  Dinner        .... 
Monument  to  Oakes  Ames  at  Sherman,  Wyoming 

Map-Some  Early  Transcontinental  Routes  . 
Transcontinental  Railroads,  1898 

xix 


Frontispiece 


rACINO 
PAQB 


82 
63 
80 
142 
171 
177 
181 
193 
210 
281 
243 
260 

19 
272 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD 


INTRODUCTION. 

THE  PASSING  OF  THE  WEST. 

AT  MOENINO. 

The  West  awoke,  breakfasted,  and  went  about  the 
day's  work  or  the  day's  pleasure.  Up  to  that  time  the 
bountiful  earth  had  supplied  all  the  wants  of  all  its 
creatures,  and  there  was  no  reason  to  fear  for  the 
future. 

All  the  men  were  red  men:  wild  nomadic  men 
who  gave  no  thought  to  the  morrow.  They  had  found 
the  earth  well  stocked  with  the  necessaries  of  life  and 
had  helped  themselves  from  day  to  day  with  no' per- 
ceptible diminution  of  the  supply. 

Wild  fowl  filled  the  air,  wild  animals  the  earth,  and 
all  the  rivers  were  full  of  fish.  There  was  plenty,  and 
the  people  were  content.  Walled  in  on  the  west  by  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  cut  off  from  the  east  by  a  mighty 
river,  the  nomads'  empire  swept  down  from  the  Brit- 
ish possessions  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  All  up  and 
down  the  great  plains,  from  north  to  south,  from 


2 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


south  to  north,  rolled  billows  of  buffalo,  the  apparently 
inexhaustible  commissariat  of  the  red  man,  as  irresist- 
ible as  the  gulf  streams  of  the  ocean. 

Presently  a  white  man  stood  on  the  bluffs  above  the 
Big  Water,  shaded  his  eyes,  and  looked  away  to  the 
west.  Soon  another  joined  him,  and  the  two  looked 
long  and  intently  upon  the  wild,  glorious  scene  be- 
yond. 

Now  the  late  comer  looked  back  and  beckoned,  and 
when  they  had  been  Joined  by  other  adventurous 
spirits,  they  let  themselves  silently  into  the  river  and 
swam  across. 

The  red  men  saw  chem  coming,  and,  remembering 
the  stories  of  the  conquest  of  the  East,  strove  to  beat 
them  off.  Some  were  killed,  some  crossed  safely,  while 
others,  having  been  pushed  into  the  water,  swam  back 
for  re-enforcements. 

Meanwhile  another  band  of  white  men  had  crossed 
farther  down,  and  were  trafficking  with  the  dark  men 
of  the  southwest. 

The  white  men  were  a  jolly  lot,  for  the  most  paii;, 
who  preferred  traffic  to  war.  They  made  friends  and 
drunkards  of  many  of  the  red  men,  and  while  a  great 
many  were  killed  off,  they  grew  in  number  and  beg  n 
building  houses  as  though  they  intended  to  stay. 


INTRODUCTION. 


& 


AT   NOON. 

The  West  was  agitated.    Everywhere  the  natives 

were  rallying  to  drive  the  intruders  away.    Still  they 

came.    Across  the  Big  Water  they  were  rowing,  wading, 

< 

and  swimming.  The  buffalo,  feeding  upon  the  great 
plains,  put  up  their  heads  and  stared. 

If  the  nomads  tried  to  escape  to  the  north  they  met 
and  fought  with  the  fur  catchers  from  Canada.  Cow- 
boys, with  deadly  short  guns,  were  riding  from  the 
south,  while  hundreds  of  scouts,  miners,  and  moun- 
taineers, with  far-reaching  rifles,  w-ere  sliding  down 
the  slope  of  the  Rooky  Mountains. 

In  a  little  while  the  battle  that  had  begun  on  the 
banks  oi  the  Missouri  was  raging  to  the  Rockies.  If  a 
white  man  fell,  two  came  to  take  his  place.  If  a  red 
man  fell,  his  place  was  empty,  but  they  fought  on  dog- 
gedly. 

Presently  other  white  men  came  on  horseback,  hun- 
dreds of  them,  all  dressed  alike.  The  white  chiefs  wore 
good  clothes,  and  swords  with  hilts  of  gold.  They 
brought  their  blankets  and  stayed,  and  then  came 
wagons  with  guns  in  whose  mouths  a  papoose  could 
hide  his  head. 

The  red  men  lost  heart. 

To  add  to  the  confusion,  they  fought  among  them- 
selves. Many  joined  the  white  men,  drank,  dressed  up, 
swore  awkwardly,  and  killed  their  kin. 


4  THE  STOEY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 

As  the  afternoon  wore  away  men  began  to  build 
houses.  Two  men  with  a  chain  and  four  guns  measured 
the  desert,  planted  stakes,  and  put  "paper- talk ''  on 
them.  Others  followed,  graded  a  road,  threw  down 
wooden  cross-ties  and  iron  rails.  The  wild  kine  of  the 
prairie  put  down  their  heads  and  ran. 

In  the  wake  of  the  trail  makers  came  other  thou- 
sands of  whites.  They  quarrelled  among  themselves 
about  the  location  of  cities  yet  unboin,  county  seats, 
and  so  on,  and  fell  to  killing  one  another  as  the  red 
men  did. 

Still  they  came.  Like  clouds  of  grasshoppers  they 
flooded  the  West,  planted  trees,  and  built  towns  along 
the  Iron  Way. 

AT  NIGHT. 

The  sun  was  sinking  behind  a  cloud. 

Here  and  there  upon  the  plains  knots  of  men  were 
still  fighting.  Many  of  the  newcomers  had  left  off  the 
killing  of  men  and  turned  to  the  buffalo.  Some  were 
killing  for  meat,  some  for  robes,  others  took  only  tho 
tongues,  while  thousands  killed  for  the  sake  of  the 
slaughter.  More  thoughtful  men  were  putting  up  tents 
for  the  night,  for  tney  were  aweary  and  in  need  of  rest. 

The  fighting  was  desultory  now.  Men  busy  about 
their  new  homes  stumbled  over  the  warm  bodies  of 
neighbours  lately  slain.  Women,  coming  up  from  the 
river  with  pails  of  water,  were  waylaid  and  scalped. 


INTRODUCTION.  6 

Children  were  snatched  from  the  dooryards  and  car- 
ried away  into  captivity  by  the  desperate  red  men  who 
had  lost  the  fight. 

Presently  it  grew  quiet.  The  setting  sun  burst 
through  the  clouds  and  bathed  the  earth  in  molten 
gold.  In  the  twilight  men  buried  the  dead.  The 
bones  of  the  buffalo  lay  in  white  heaps  along  the  new 
trail. 

In  the  gathering  gloaming  groups  of  men  sat  round 
the  camp  fires  and  tallied  it  all  over.  Even  those  who 
had  taken  part  in  the  great  drama  were  amazed,  so 
swift  and  awful  had  been  the  work. 

The  plains  had  grown  so  suddenly  silent  that  it 
frightened  them.  They  hearkened,  and  heard  only  the 
soft  sighing  of  the  wind  in  the  wild  grass.  "  This  place 
is  dead,"  said  an  old  scout,  and  folding  his  blankets 
he  strode  away  in  search  of  the  West. 

Already  the  fur  catchers  were  going  back  to  the 
wild  streams  that  thread  the  northern  forests.  The 
cowboys  had  long  since  taken  the  trail  to  Texas. 

Suddenly  the  stillness  was  broken  by  the  wild 
scream  of  an  iron  horse  along  the  Iron  Trail.  The  few 
remaining  red  men  threw  themselves  trembling,  upon 
the  trembling  earth  as  the  great  black  steed,  with 
heart  of  fire  and  breath  of  flame,  roared  by.  The 
white  men  watched  it  tip  over  the  crest  of  the 
continent,  and  the  Wes*  of  yesterday  was  gone  for- 
ever. 


6 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


The  moon  looked  down  upon  the  conquerors.  They 
had  cast  their  arms  aside  and  were  sleeping  peacefully, 
for  across  the  plains  that  day  had  been  traced  in 
blood — 

"  TPANQUILITY." 


CHAPTEE  I. 


THE   ORIGIN   OF   THE   IDEA. 

The  first  report  presented  to  the  Congress  of  the 
United  States  on  the  construction  of  a  railroad  to  the 
Pacific  was  made  in  1846  by  the  Hon.  Sidney  Breese, 
Chairman  of  the  Committee  on  Pacific  Lands. 

This  was  the  first  result  of  the  labours  of  Asa 
Whitney,  a  New  York  merchant,  who  had  become  an 
enthusiast  on  the  subject  of  a  Pacific  railroad.  Be- 
tween 1830  and  1835,  while  in  China,  Mr.  Whitney 
read  of  the  wonderful  experiments  in  railroad  building 
in  England,  and  began  at  once  to  reflect  upon  the  enor- 
mous changes  the  new  mvention  made  possible.  It 
would  be  an  easy  matter  to  cross  the  American  con- 
tinent and  connect  Europe  with  the  Orient  by  way  of 
the  Pacific.  As  the  dream  grew  upon  him,  he  began  to 
gather  statistics  concerning  the  trade  of  China,  Japan, 
and  India.  He  seems  to  have  devoted  months,  if  not 
years,  to  this  work,  coming  to  America  full  of  figures 
and  faith  in  his  great  scheme. 

He  proposed  to  build  a  road  from  Lake  Superior 
to  Puget  Sound  in  consideration  of  a  grant  of  land 
from  the  Gove^ment  along  the  whole  line.  Whitney 
began  his  public  work  in  America  upon  the  great 
project  in  1841.    After  four  years  of  work  and  worry  he 

7 


8 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


secured  a  hearing  before  Congress.  Seven  more  years, 
and  then,  in  1853,  Congress,  with  more  or  less  reluc- 
tance, made  an  appropriation  for  the  first  preliminary 
survey. 

For  twenty  years  or  more  Whitney  clung  to  his  idea 
with  the  faith  of  an  enthusiast,  and  then,  at  last,  help 
came.  But  it  came  too  late  and  too  slowly  for  him.  He 
had  fretted  the  best  part  of  his  life  away.  His  private 
fortune  had  been  sacrificed.  Men  had  begun  to  re- 
gard him  with  pity,  so  thoroughly  had  he  lost  himself 
in  the  pursuit  of  his  dream.  His  plan  was  not  feasible, 
but  he  gave  his  enthusiasm,  his  fortune,  if  not  his  life, 
to  the  work — and  passed  on.  Almost  without  being 
missed,  he  disappeared  from  the  scene,  the  first  martyr 
to  the  great  enterprise. 

The  work  begun  by  Whitney  was  taken  up  by 
others. 

Mr.  E.  V.  Smalley  declares  that  as  early  as  1834 
Dr.  Samuel  Boncraft  Barlow  advocated  the  construc- 
tion of  a  railroad  from  New  York  to  the  mouth  of  the 
Columbia  Eiver,  with  money  secured  by  direct  appro- 
priation from  the  Treasury  of  the  United  States.  Upon 
this  claim  General  W.  T.  Sherman,  in  his  summary  of 
transcontinental  railroads  constructed  up  to  1883,  com- 
ments as  follows: 

"  But  in  presenting  this  claim  to  priority,  is  it  not 
possible  that  the  fact  has  been  overlooked  that  Dr. 
Barlow's  paper  in  the  Intelligence,  of  Westfield,  Mass., 
was  called  forth  by  a  series  of  articles  upon  the 
same  subject  published  in  the  Emigrant,  of  Washte- 
naw County,  Michigan  Territory?  And  is  not,  there- 
fore, that  unknown  writer  of  these  articles  really  en- 


THE  ORIGIN  OP  THE  IDEA. 


9 


titled  to  whatever  credit  attaches  to  priority  of  sug- 
gestion?" 

General  Sherman  says,  in  the  summary  referred  to, 
that  it  would  now  be  impossible  to  ascertain  who  was 
the  first  to  suggest  the  construction  of  a  railroad  to 
connect  the  eastern  portion  of  our  country  with  the 
Pacific  coast,  and  adds  that  the  idea  probably  occurred 
in  some  form  to  several  persons.  It  is  a  fact,  however, 
that  long  before  any  man  had  known  the  luxury  of 
travelling  by  rail  the  question  of  connecting  the  At- 
lantic with  the  Pacific  by  means  of  a  "  steam  carriage  " 
was  being  agitated  in  this  country. 

The  first  railroad  was  built  by  the  Eomans.  The 
track  was  of  cut  stone. 

The  steam  engine  was  invented  by  James  Watt,  in 
1773. 

Probably  the  first  locomotive  was  invented  by 
Richard  Trevethick.  It  was  tried  and  failed  in  Lon- 
don in  1804.  George  Stephenson  opened  the  Killing- 
worth,  a  colliery  railroad,  in  1814. 

The  Stockton  and  Darlington,  in  England,  twelve 
miles  in  length,  was  the  first  railroad  to  carry  pas- 
sengers. It  was  opened  for  freight  on  September  27, 
1825,  and  for  passenger  traffic  in  October  of  the  same 
year. 

Peter  Cooper  experimented  with  a  little  engine  of 
his  own  on  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  in  1829,  and 
claimed  that  on  the  trial  trip  he  ran  away  from  a  gray 
horse  attached  to  another  car. 

The  modern  railroad  was  created  by  the  Stephen- 
sons,  father  and  son,  when  they  built  the  Rocket,  the 
first  locomotive  with  a  "  blower,"  in  1830. 


10 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


Tlie  first  locomotive  run  over  an  American  railroad 
was  driven  by  Horatio  Allen  in  1831. 

As  early  as  1819  Robert  Mills  proposed,  in  his 
book  on  the  internal  improvements  of  Maryland, 
Virginia,  and  South  Carolina,  to  connect  the  two 
oceans  by  a  steam  road  "  from  the  head  navigable 
waters  of  the  noble  rivers  disemboguing  into  each 
ocean." 

With  the  lessons  learned  from  the  years  that  fol- 
lowed the  agitation  of  the  question  by  Mr.  Whitney 
and  others  we  are  able  to  see  now  what  bitter  disap- 
pointment was  in  store  for  the  enthusiast  who  pinned 
his  faith  to  the  traffic  of  the  Orient.  We  know  now 
that  the  revenue  derived  from  the  Asiatic  trade — in 
fact,  from  all  through  business — would  not  do  much 
more  than  supply  the  tallow  required  to  cool  the  pins 
that  were  heated  by  the  sands  of  the  desert  through 
which  the  road  was  to  run.  Veritable  dreamers  were 
the  early  friends  of  the  Pacific  Railroad.  Themselves 
farther  from  the  pay  streak  than  the  Atlantic  was  from 
the  Pacific,  they  were  ever  scolding  Congress  for  its 
tardiness,  and  capital  for  its  timidity. 

During  all  the  preliminarj'  work  the  great  aim  of 
the  road  was  to  reach  India,  China,  and  Japan. 

Benton,  Clark,  and  others  in  Congress  were  -ever 
pointing  to  the  East  by  way  of  the  West,  and  crying  in 
the  drowsy  ears  of  the  nodding  Speaker  that  "  yonder 
lay  the  road  to  the  Orient."  It  was  not  until  the  dis- 
coveries of  gold  in  California  that  Congressman  Sar- 
gent, of  that  State,  began  to  hint  guardedly  that  the 
West  itself  was  worth  going  after.  To  be  sure,  nobody 
took  him  seriously.    He  was  merely  tooting  his  own 


THE  ORIGIN  OP  THE  IDEA. 


11 


horn,  men  said,  and  they  continued  to  talk  Asia,  to 
talk  against  the  scheme,  or  not  to  talk  at  all.  Nobody 
dreamed  of  the  possibilities  of  the  wild  West.  No 
prophet  attempted  to  foretell  the  story  of  the  vast 
empire  that  would  awaken  with  the  first  magnetic  toucn 
of  the  steel-shod  feet  of  the  iron  horse,* 

No  man  would  have  believed,  at  the  close  of  the  war 
of  the  rebellion,  that  within  a  quarter  of  a  century 
fifteen  million  people  would  be  living  in  the  territory 
between  the  Missouri  and  the  Pacific  Ocean.  A  man 
who  would  have  predicted  in  1861  what  Mr.  Sidney 
Dillon  stated  as  a  fact  just  thirty  years  later,  would 
have  been  without  honour  in  any  country — namely, 
that  the  railroads  would  change  not  only  the  climate  of 
the  West,  but  the  character  of  the  soil  as  well;  that  the 
farmer  would  plant  trees,  and  that  these  treec  would 
check  the  bitter  winds,  and  also  cause  an  increased 
rainfall;  that  the  furrowed  fields,  which  formerly  offered 
to  the  sky  but  one  uniform,  smooth,  and  iron-hard  sur- 
face, would  create  a  rainfall  by  their  evaporation,  and 
invite  it  by  their  contrast  of  temperature;  that,  in 
short,  with  the  advent  of  the  railroad  upon  the  Western 
plateaus  the  climate  would  become  milder,  the  cold  less 
destructive,  and  the  rainfall  greater. 

Beaching  across  the  great  American  desert  for  the 
trade  of  the  Orient,  the  dreamers  never  dreamed  that 

*  "  If  it  had  been  proposed  before  the  war  that  the  United 
States  should  lend  its  credit  and  issue  its  bonds  to  build  a  rail- 
road two  thousand  miles  long  across  a  vast,  barren  plain  only 
known  to  the  red  man,  uninhabited,  without  one  dollar  of  busi- 
ness to  sustain  it,  the  proposition  alone  would  have  virtually 
bankrupted  the  nation.'' — General  Dodge. 


12 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


these  vast  reaches  of  land,  then  considered  uninhabit- 
able, would  soon  be  occupied  by  a  rapidly  increasing 
population,  and  that,  when  the  road  was  built,  ninety- 
five  cents  of  every  dollar  earned  would  come  from  local, 
and  only  five  cents  from  through  traffic.  • 


CHAPTER  II. 

EAKLY  EXPLORATIONS  AND  SURVEYS. 

Until  a  few  years  ago  it  was  generally  conceded 
that  a  young  engineer  in  the  employ  of  the  Mississippi 
and  Missouri  River  Railroad  was  the  pioneer  in  survey- 
ing the  Pacific  roads.  This  was  in  1853.  When  the 
war  broke  out  this  young  man  boxed  his  outfit  and 
entered  the  service  of  Uncle  Sam.  When  the  war 
was  over  he  asked  to  be  relieved,  and  this  is  the  answer 
that  came  to  him: 

"  Headquaetees  Militaey  Division  ok  the  Mississippi, 

St.  Louis,  May  i,  W6«. 
"  Major-General  Dodge. 

"  Dear  General:  I  have  your  letter  of  April  27th, 
and  I  readily  consent  to  what  you  ask.  I  think  General 
Pope  should  be  at  Leavenworth  before  you  leave,  and  I 
expected  he  would  be  at  Leavenworth  by  May  Ist,  but 
he  is  not  yet  come.  As  soon  as  he  reaches  Leavenworth, 
or  St.  Louis  even,  I  consent  to  your  going  to  Omaha  to 
begin  what,  I  trust,  will  be  the  real  beginning  of  the 
great  road.  I  start  to-morrow  for  Riley,  whence  I  will 
cross  over  to  Kearney  by  land,  and  thence  come  into 
Omaha,  where  I  hope  to  meet  you.  I  will  send  your  let- 
ter this  morning  to  Pope's  office,  and  indorse  my  re- 
quest that  a  telegraph  message  be  sent  to  General  Pope 
3  13 


..-' 


14 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


to  the  effect  that  he  is  wanted  at  Leavenworth.    Hop- 
ing to  meet  you  soon,  I  am, 

"  Yours  truly, 

W.  T.  Sherman,  M.  0." 


(( 


And  80  it  happened  that  the  outfit  that  was  boxed 
by  young  Dodge  in  1861  was  unpacked  by  General 
Dodge  in  1866.  So  thoroughly  had  he  become  int<^r- 
ested  in  the  great  project  of  a  road  across  what  was  then 
called  the  American  Desert,  that  the  moment  the 
trouble  was  over  at  the  South,  he  resigned  his  position 
to  resume  his  work  where  he  had  left  off. 

In  a  paper  read  before  the  Society  of  the  Army  of 
the  Tennessee  at  its  twenty-first  annual  reunion,  at  To- 
ledo, Ohio,  on  September  15, 1888,  General  Dodge  mod- 
estly discli limed  the  credit  of  having  been  the  first  to  ex- 
plore che  West  in  the  interest  of  a  transcontinental  rail- 
road. Upon  that  occasion  he  declared  it  to  be  his  be- 
lief that  Lieutenants  Warner  and  Williamson  were 
sent  into  the  Sierra  Nevada  Mountains  at  the  sugges- 
tion of  General  W.  T.  Sherman  (who  was  chairman  of 
the  meeting  then  being  addressed  by  General  Dodge), 
adding  tliat  "that  was  the  first  exploring  party  ever 
sent  irio  che  field  for  the  special  purpose  of  ascertain- 
ing the  feasibility  of  constructing  a  railroad  on  a  por- 
tion of  the  line  of  one  of  the  transcontinental  routes, 
and  that  the  exploration  preceded,  at  least  for  years, 
the  act  of  Congress  making  appropriations  for  ex- 
ploration and  surveys  for  a  railroad  route  from  the 
Mississippi  River  to  the  Pacific  Ocean." 

In  the  first  volume  of  his  Memoirs,  on  page  79, 
General  Sherman  says:  "  Shortly  after  returning  from 


EARLY  EXPLORATIONS  AND  SURVEYS.    15 


Monterey  I  was  sent  by  General  Smith  up  to  Sacra- 
mento City  to  instruct  Lieutenants  Warner  and  Wil- 
liamson, of  the  engineers,  to  push  their  surveys  to  the 
fcJiorra  Nevada  Mountains,  for  the  purpose  of  ascertain- 
ing the  possibility  of  passing  that  range  by  a  railroad, 
a  subject  that  then  elicited  universal  interest.  It  was 
generally  assumed  that  such  a  road  could  not  be  made 
along  any  of  the  immigrant  routes  then  in  use,  and 
Warner's  orders  were  to  look  farther  north  up  tlie 
Feather  River,  or  some  of  its  tributaries.  Warner  was 
engaged  in  this  survey  during  the  summer  and  fall  of 
1849,  and  explored  to  the  very  end  of  Goose  Lake,  the 
source  of  Feather  River." 

It  will  be  seen  here  that  General  Sherman,  with 
characteristic  modesty,  takes  no  credit  for  having  or- 
dered or  even  suggested  this  work,  but  the  many  evi- 
dences of  his  friendship  for  the  Pacific  railroad  enter- 
prises bear  out  the  suggestion  of  General  Dodge  that  he 
was  the  moving  spirit  in  the  work.  When  Lieutenant 
Warner,  the  real  pioneer  explorer  of  the  Pacific  roads, 
had  reached  Feather  River,  after  many  skirmishes  with 
the  Indians,  his  outfit  was  surrounded  by  i-he  savages^ 
and  after  a  brief  resistance  and  a  stubborn  stand  he 
fell — ^the  second  martyr  to  this  great  enterprise. 

Going  back  to  the  Missouri  River,  we  find  young 
Dodge  and  a  small  corps  of  assistants  crossing  from 
Iowa  to  Nebraska  on  a  raft  in  1853.  This  was  a 
private  survey  ordered  by  Heni-y  Farnum  and  T.  C. 
Durant,  the  contractors  and  builders  of  the  Missis- 
sippi and  Missouri,  now  the  Chicago  and  Rock 
Island  Pacific  Railroad.  Peter  A.  Dey  was  the  chief 
under  whose  instructions  Dodge  crossed  the  Missouri. 


16 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


It  is  an  interesting  fact  that  the  company  order- 
ing this  exploration  of  the  plains  had  no  idea  or 
intention  of  building  a  road  there.  What  it  wanted 
to  find  was  the  most  feasible  termini,  or  rather 
the  most  probable  starting  point  for  the  Pacific  Rail- 
road when  it  should  be  built,  in  order  that  they  might 
end  their  own  road  opposite  that  point  on  the  Iowa 
side. 

When  young  Dodge  arrived  at  Omaha  the  Indians 
surrounded  his  wagons  and  took  what  they  wanted, 
calling  the  white  man  "  squaws,"  and  showing  in  true 
Indian  fashion  their  contempt  for  these  adventurous 
young  men.  By  being  patient  and  liberal.  Dodge  man- 
aged to  escape  with  his  scalp.  To  show  that  he  was  not 
afraid,  he  slept  the  first  night  in  the  tepee  of  an  Omaha 
Indian — whistling  through  a  graveyard,  as  it  were. 
Dodge  soon  acquired  the  careless  habit  of  riding  far  in 
advance  of  his  outfit.  He  had  been  on  the  plains  but  a 
few  days  when  he  found  himself  alone  on  the  banks  of 
the  Elkhom  Eiver.  It  was  noon.  "  Being  tired,"  he 
tells  us,  "  I  hid  my  rifle,  saddle,  and  blanket,  strolled 
out  to  a  secluded  spot  in  the  woods  with  my  pony,  and 
lay  down  to  sleep.  I  awoke,  and  found  my  pony  gone. 
I  looked  out  upon  the  valley  and  saw  a  native  running 
off  with  him.  I  was  twenty-five  miles  from  my  party, 
and  was  terrified.  It  was  my  first  experience,  for  I  was 
very  young.  Wha^  possessed  me  I  do  not  know,  but 
I  grabbed  my  rifle  and  started  for  the  Indian,  hallooing 
at  the  top  of  my  voice.  The  pony  held  back,  and  the 
Indian,  seeing  me  gaining  upon  him,  let  the  horse  go, 
jumped  into  the  Elkhom,  and  put  that  river  between 
us.    The  Indian  was  a  Pawnee.    He  served  under  me  in 


EARLY  EXPLORATIONS  AND  SURVEYS.   17 


1865,  and  said  to  me  that  I  had  made  so  much  noise 
that  he  had  Ijeen  a  '  heap  scared/  " 

Upon  this  occasion  Dodge  extended  his  surveys  to 
and  up  the  Platte  Valley,  to  ascertain  whether  any  road 
built  on  this  central — or  then  northern — line  would, 
from  the  formation  of  the  country,  follow  the  Platte 
and  its  tributaries  over  the  plains,  and  thus  overcome 
the  Kocky  MoLUtains.  Subsequently,  under  the  pa- 
tronage of  Mr.  j^arnum,  he  extended  the  examination 
westward  to  the  eastern  base  of  the  Eocky  Mountains 
and  beyond,  examining  the  practical  passes  from  the 
Sangre  de  Christo  to  the  South  Pass,  and  made  maps 
of  the  country,  developing  them  as  thoroughly  as  could 
be  done  without  making  purely  instrumental  surveys. 
Ml'.  I'arnum  and  his  associates  had  conceived  the  idea 
of  working  up  a  scheme  west  of  Iowa  that  would  in- 
duce investors  to  aid  them  in  carrying  their  project 
across  Iowa  to  the  Missouri  Kiver,  which  was  still  far 
away  from  the  end  of  their  track.  The  practicability  of 
the  route,  the  singular  formation  of  the  country  be- 
tween Long's  Peak  to  the  south  and  Laramie  Peak  and 
the  Sweetwater  and  Wind  Eiver  ranges  to  the  north, 
demonstrated  to  Dodge  that  the  road  must  eventually 
be  built  through  this  region.  The  young  engineer  re- 
ported these  facts  to  Farnum,  and  through  the  latter's 
efforts  and  those  of  his  friends  the  prospect  of  the 
Pacific  Kailroad  began  to  take  shape.  Having  con- 
cluded his  preliminary  survey,  young  Dodge  returned 
to  Council  Bluffs,  thoroughly  convinced  that  the  road 
he  represented  ought  to  end  there,  and  that  the  Pa- 
cific Road,  if  ever  built,  would  begin  at  Omaha,  oppo- 
site the  Bluffs. 


18 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAT. 


General  Dodge  relates  that  after  dinner,  while  sit- 
ting on  the  stoop  of  the  Pacific  House,  a  tall  man  came 
and  sat  beside  him.  He  appeared  to  be  very  much  in- 
terested in  the  work  that  the  young  man  had  been 
doing,  and  in  a  little  while  was  drawing  from  the  en- 
gineer the  secrets  that  were  intended  for  his  employers. 
The  sweet,  homely  face  and  kindly  manner  of  the  man 
were  irresistible.  He  seemed  to  have  no  special  inter- 
est in  any  of  the  railroads  that  were  then  reaching  out 
toward  that  vast  unknown  region  called  the  West,  but 
he  was  interested  in  the  general  devei  >pp'  '  and  up- 
building of  the  country,  and  deeply  in  sympathy  with 
all  the  human  race.  His  interest  could  not  have  been 
broader  or  deeper  if  he  had  owned  the  whole  country. 
In  fact,  the  impression  left  upon  the  mind  of  young 
Dodge  was  that  he  had  been  engaged  in  a  confidential 
conversation  with  Uncle  Sam. 

Finally,  when  the  tall  man  got  up  and  moved  away, 
he  carried  with  him  a  story  that  had  cost  the  engineer 
months  of  hard  work.  In  thirty  minutes  he  had  ex- 
plored the  plains  from  the  Missouri  Eiver  to  ^he 
Rockies.  He  had  learned  the  secrets  of  the  deseri  -  i'^ 
could  tell  you  the  names  and  the  height  of  half  a  di  ,i  .j 
peaks  and  passes  in  the  far-off  hills.  The  engineei 
knew  that  he  knew  these  things,  and  yet  he  was  not 
alarmed.  He  felt  sure  that  a  man  with  so  sad,  so  kind  a 
face,  would  be  wholly  incapable  of  taking  advantage  of 
information  so  obtained  to  the  detriment  of  one  who 
had  trusted  him. 

Later,  when  the  war  had  demonstrated  the  road  to 
be  a  military  necessity,  and  the  Government  came  to 
the  rescue  with  grants  of  land,  surveys  were  extended 


^ 


Lon.  Weat         107    from     Green 


Lon.  West    30     from         Washingi 


107    from     Gi-eenwich  102 


97 


92 


|#^^     CheyennT 


I  ^<^     ^Colorado  Sps. 


40 


.1^—1-^ 


36 


30 


SO     from         Washington 


San  Antonio  o 


15 


1 


EARLY  EXPLORATIONS  AND  SURVEYS. 


40 


36 


SO 


through  the  country  previously  explored,  its  resources 
developed,  and  its  capabilities  for  the  building  of  a 
railroad  to  the  Pacific  fully  demonstrated.  Within  a 
strip  two  hundred  miles  wide,  reaching  from  the  Mis- 
souri River  to  the  California  State  line,  along  the  forty- 
second  parallel  of  latitude,  fifteen  thousand  miles  of 
instrumental  lines  were  run,  and  over  twenty-five  thou- 
sand miles  of  reconnoissances  made.  Countless  other 
lines  were  run  by  the  Government  engineer.  These  ex- 
plorations and  surveys  covered  the  entire  West  like  the 
stripes  on  Old  Glory,  and  included  every  possible  and 
many  impossible  routes  between  the  Isthmus  of  Panama 
and  Canada.  The  explorers  gave  no  thought  to  the 
value  of  a  line  as  a  means  of  opening  up  and  developing 
the  West.  True,  the  gold  excitement  in  California  in 
1849,  the  possibility  of  transporting  a  few  thousand 
fever-heated  fortune  seekers,  and  the  admission  of  Cali- 
fornia as  a  State,  caused  men  to  take  a  second  look  in 
that  direction,  but  the  real  objective  point  was  still 
China  and  Japan. 

In  the  seven  years  ending  in  1860  Congress  spent 
a  vast  amount  of  money  in  exploring  the  West,  and 
when  the  work  had  been  completed,  or,  rather,  when  it 
stopped,  the  result  was  rounded  up,  profusely  illus- 
trated, published,  and  distributed  to  the  people  free, 
and  in  that  way  nxen  began  to  know  the  West. 

These  surveys  made  by  the  Government  now  became 
the  basis  for  all  future  explorations  of  all  the  trans- 
continental lines,  save  of  the  Union  Pacific,  then 
known  as  the  forty-second  parallel  route,  and  the  Santa 
Fe,  which  followed  the  old  Santa  Fe  trail. 

The  country-  through  which  the   Union  Pacific 


20 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


passed  was  the  scene  of  more  work  than  any  other  part 
of  the  West.  This  line  was  largely  developed  by  private 
enterprise,  and,  in  addition,  the  Government  spent  a 
great  deal  of  time  and  money  upon  it.  It  was  always 
General  Dodge's  favourite  route,  and  whenever  he  could 
steal  a  day  he  would  gallop  over  it,  or  a  part  of  it,  until 
hi  knew  it  all.  General  Dodge  always  contended,  how- 
ever, that  the  present  route  was  not,  from  an  engineer- 
ing point  of  view,  the  true  line  to  the  Pacific.  The  true 
line,  he  declared,  was  up  the  Platte  and  Sweetwater  to 
the  South  Pass,  and  then  down  the  Snake  E'.ver  (where 
the  Oregon  Short  Line  was  built  later)  to  the  Columbia 
River,  thence  down  that  noble  stream  to  tide  water  at 
Portland.  But  from  a  commercial  point  of  view  the 
Salt  Lake  line  is  the  better.  It  is  also  claimed  by  the 
friends  of  the  Union  Pacific  and  Central  Pacific  that 
they  constitute  the  most  practicable  line  across  the 
continent — the  shortest,  quickest,  of  lightest  curvature, 
and  lowest  grades  and  summits.  The  maximum  grade 
over  the  Black  Hills  is  eighty  feet  to  the  mile.  In  two 
or  three  years  of  constant  pounding  away  at  these  hills 
the  explorers  failed  to  find  a  pass  that  would  let  them 
over  without  crowding  the  limit  allowed  by  Congress, 
because  the  mountains  were  so  steep  and  high.  One  of 
the  finest  natural  approaches  that  ever  propped  a  range 
was  right  there  all  the  time,  but  not  where  engineers 
had  been  in  the  habit  of  looking  for  a  pass.  In  one 
of  his  speeches  General  Sherman  has  publicly  declared 
the  discovery  of  that  pass  a  stroke  of  genius,*  but  Gen- 

♦  "  I  was  particularly  interested  in  that  part  of  General  Dodge's 
paper  wherein  he  described  his  discovery  of  the  way  to  cross  the 
Black  Hills  beyond  Cheyenne  (there  was  no  Cheyenne  then).    He 


EARLY  EXPLORATIONS  AND  SURVEYS.        21 


eral  Dodge,  who  discovered  it,  says  that  it  was  purely 
accidental,  and  he  tells  an  interesting  story  of  how  it 
happened. 

In  the  spring  of  1863,  while  at  Corinth,  Miss., 
he  was  ordered  by  General  Grant  to  go  to  Washington 
to  see  the  President  of  the  United  States.  "  When  I 
received  the  summons,"  he  writes,  "  it  alarmed  me.  I 
had  armed,  without  authority,  a  lot  of  negroes  and 
organized  them  into  a  company  to  guard  the  Corinth 
Contraband  camp.  It  had  been  pretty  severely  criti- 
cised in  the  army,  and  I  thought  this  act  of  mine  had 
partly  to  do  with  my  call  to  Washington." 

Upon  reaching  the  capital  General  Dodge  called 
upon  the  President,  but  to  his  surprise  Mr.  Lincoln 
said  nothing  about  the  negroes  at  Corinth.  He  talked 
about  the  struggle  at  the  South,  t  t  condition  of  the 
army  in  general,  and  finally  asked  his  visitor  if  he 
recalled  a  conversation  that  had  taken  place  six  or  seven 
years  previously  upon  the  stoop  of  the  Pacific  House  at 
Council  Bluffs,  Iowa,  when  General  Dodge  was  not  a 
general,  and  before  Mr.  Lincoln  had  been  much 
thought  of  as  the  President  of  the  United  States.  The 
general  assured  the  President  that  he  remembered  the 
conversation  very  distinctly,  and  that  it  was  the  only 

was  limited  by  law  to  116  [General  Dodge  informed  the  writer 
that  the  limit  was  really  216]  feet  grade  to  the  mile.  Instead 
of  following  the  valley  of  Lodge  Pole  Creek,  as  all  previous  en- 
gineers had  done,  he  chose  the  upper  or  anticlinal  line,  instead 
of  the  lower  or  synclinal  line.  This  was  a  stroke  of  genius,  by 
which  he  surmounted  the  Rocky  Mountains  at  a  grade  of  eighty 
feet  to  the  mile,  whereas  by  any  other  route  then  known  he 
would  have  been  forced  to  a  grade  of  200  feet,  or  to  adopt  short 
Curves  through  Laramie  Pass.'* 


22 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


time  in  his  life  that  he  had  given  up  his  employers* 
secrets  to  an  outsider.  The  President  smiled  quietly, 
and  said:  "  Well,  you  know,  under  the  law,  it  is  my 
business  to  fix  the  eastern  terminus  of  the  Pacifc  Boad, 
and  that  is  one  of  the  things  I  wart  to  talk  about  with 
you." 

General  Dodge  told  Mr.  Lincoln  that  in  his  ca- 
pacity as  an  engineer  in  the  service  of  the  Mississippi 
and  Missouri  Hailroad  he  had  selected  Council  Bluffy. 
It  is  probable  that  Mr.  Lincoln  knew  this,  for  he  ^eems 
always  to  have  known  in  advance  what  was  the  thing 
to  do  in  all  circumstances.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  for 
nearly  a  decade  all  roads  reaching  toward  the  West 
and  desiring  a  connection  with  the  Pacific  Eailroud 
that  was  to  be  had  been  funnelling  in  toward  Councdl 
Bluffs.  And  so  the  President  very  naturally  fixed  the 
terminus  of  the  Pacific  road  at  Council  Bluffs.  When 
that  had  been  done,  he  told  his  visitor  plainly  that  the 
Pacific  Kailroad  had  become  a  military  necessity, 
that  he  was  very  anxious  to  have  the  road  commenced 
and  built,  and  that  it  was  upon  that  matter  mainly 
that  he  desired  to  consult  the  general.  In  discussing 
the  means  of  building  the  road.  General  Dodge  urged 
that  no  private  combination  should  be  relied  upon,  but 
that  it  must  be  done  by  the  Government.  General 
Sherman  had  always  been  of  that  opinion.  In  a  letter 
dated  January  6,  1859,  addressed  to  the  Hon.  John 
Sherman,  M.  C,  and  made  public  through  the  National 
Intelligencer,  he  said:  "  It  is  the  work  of  giants,  and 
Uncle  Sam  is  the  only  giant  I  know  who  can,  or  should, 
grapple  with  the  subject." 

The  President  said  frankly  that  the  Government  had 


EARLY  EXPLORATIONS  AND  SURVEYS.   23 


its  hands  full.  Private  enterprise  must  do  the  work, 
and  all  the  Government  could  do  was  to  aid.  What  he 
wished  to  know  of  his  visitor  was,  what  was  required 
from  the  Government  to  assure  its  commencement  and 
completion. 

When  the  matter  had  been  discussed  at  length,  it 
was  decided  that  General  Dodge  should  go  to  New  York 
and  consult  there  with  the  people  who  had  the  ques- 
tion before  them.  One  of  the  results  of  this  visit  to 
New  York  was  the  framing  of  the  bill  of  1864,  which 
was  duly  passed,  and  under  which  were  built  the  Union 
and  Central  Pacific  roads,  constituting  one  continuous 
line  from  the  Missouri  to  the  Pacific. 

During  the  years  from  1853  to  1860  the  political 
condition  of  the  country  made  it  impossible  to  induce 
capital  to  undertake  the  building  of  a  railroad  across 
two  thousand  miles  of  desert.  The  agitation  of  the 
slavery  question  occupied  the  attention  of  Congress  to 
the  exclusion  of  everything  else,  and  out  of  the  sectional 
jealousies  engendered  by  that  controversy  arose  differ- 
ences as  to  the  route  to  be  adopted.  The  South  wanted 
a  southern  route,  the  North  a  northern  one,  and  there 
seemed  to  be  no  way  of  reaching  a  compromise.  The 
South  was  then  in  control  of  the  Government,  and 
could  prevent  the  location  of  the  line  at  the  North, 
while  northern  and  eastern  capital  could  not  be  en- 
listed for  a  southern  route  indorsed  by  Jefferson  Davis, 
who  was  then  Secretary  of  War.  The  political  tide 
turned,  however,  in  1860,  and  politics,  which  had  so 
retarded  the  work,  now  helped  to  push  the  road  for- 
ward. The  charter  of  1862  was  rushed  through  Con- 
gress, and  it  seemed  as  if  the  road  was  about  to  be 


24 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


built.  China  and  Japan  were  forgotten  in  the  excite- 
ment, the  ruling  thought  in  the  public  mind  being  the 
necessity  of  strengthening  the  Union  by  bringing  the 
West  into  quick  and  easy  communication  with  the 
East,  at  any  cost. 

The  Pacific  coast  and  the  new  States  of  California 
and  0  ogon  were  in  conttant  danger.  It  required 
twenty-four  days  of  travel,  partly  through  a  foreign 
country,  to  reach  the  far  West.  The  coast  was  almost 
entirely  undefended,  and  recent  events  had  shown  to 
the  Government  the  possibility  of  war  with  England. 
Semmes,  the  Confederate  admiral,  had  added  to  the 
confusion  by  the  destruction  of  nearly  one  hundred 
whaling  vessels  in  the  Pacific  Ocean.  "^  citizens  in 
the  far  West  were  greatly  excited  «,.xu  were  con- 
stantly urging  Congress  to  action.  President  Lin- 
coln was  labouring  day  and  night  with  capitalists 
and  Congressmen  in  the  interest  of  the  road  that 
he  considered  of  such  vast  importance  co  the  Union. 
Friends  of  the  enterprise  furnished  figures  to  show 
that  the  Government  was  paying  seven  million  dol- 
lars annually  for  the  transportation  of  mails,  troops, 
munitions,  and  supplies  between  the  Missouri  River 
and  the  Pacific  Ocean. 

General  Sherman,  in  the  letter  to  his  brother 
already  referred  to,  had  roughly  estimated  the  cost  of 
the  road  at  two  hundred  million  dollars,  but  experts 
now  declared  that  it  could  be  constructed  for  half  that 
amount.  So  that  simply  to  do  its  own  work  the  Gov- 
ernment, had  there  been  no  constitutional  hindrance, 
could  well  afford  to  issue  its  six  per  cents  for  the 
amount,  build  the  road,  and  save  one  million  dollars 


EARLY  EXPLORATIONS  AND  SURVEYS. 


25 


annually  on  its  own  transportation.  There  was  no 
dearth  of  excuses  for  the  construction  of  the  road,  for 
when  the  enthusiast  failed  there  was  always  the  Orient 
to  fall  back  upon. 

The  charter  of  1862  was  believed  by  Congress  to 
contain  sufficient  inducements  in  this  land  grant  and 
subsidy  loan  to  enlist  the  capital  required  to  begin  the 
enterprise.  But  no  man  of  business  had  any  idea  that 
the  full  amount  would  be  subscribed  or  paid  in;  there 
were  not  many  who  believed  that  the  scheme  was  prac- 
ticable. 

To  the  surprise  of  Congress,  capital  held  aloof  from 
80  unpron  4ng  a  venture.  Naturally  the  President, 
and  others  interested,  looked  to  the  lines  of  railroad 
then  being  extended  across  Iowa,  but  still  a  long  dis- 
tance from  the  Missouri  River,  to  take  hold  of  the 
Union  Pacific  charter  and  under  it  extend  the  line 
across  the  plains. 

The  franchise  was  vastly  more  valuable  to  either  the 
Rock  Island  or  the  Northwestern  than  to  any  one  else. 
Both  could  extend  the  road  with  the  advantage  of  a 
railroad  behind  them,  whereas  a  new  company  would 
have  to  carry  all  material  and  supplies  from  St.  Louis 
to  Omaha  by  water.  Both  these  roads,  however,  after 
carefully  considering  the  whole  subject,  declared  that 
they  saw  no  money  in  a  railroad  across  the  desert. 

In  1864,  about  a  year  after  his  first  conference  with 
President  Lincoln,  General  Dodge,  either  at  the  re- 
quest or  by  command  of  the  commander  in  chief. 
General  Grant,  visited  Washington  again.  Upon  this 
occasion  he  found  it  extremely  difficult  to  hold  the 
President  to  the  subject  of  the  Pacific  Railroad.    When 


26 


THE  STORY  CF  THE  RAILROAD. 


they  had  fought  Virginia  and  Georgia  over  ag&in,  and 
discussed  the  fall  of  Atlanta,, 'the  general  tried  to  lead 
his  host  back  tc  the  prairies  of  the  West,  but  it  was 
impossible  to  hold  him. 

"  While  the  President  referred  to  the  Pacific  Road, 
its  progress,  and  the  result  of  my  former  visit,"'  writes 
General  Dodge,  "  he  gave  it  very  little  thought,  appar- 
ently. His  great  desire  seemed  to  be  to  get  encourage- 
ment respecting  the  situation  around  Richmond,  which 
just  then  was  very  dark.  People  were  criticising 
Grant's  strategy,  and  telling  how  to  take  Richmond. 
I  think  the  advice  and  pressure  on  President  Lin- 
coln were  almost  too  much  for  him,  for  during  my 
entire  visit,  which  lasted  several  hours,  he  confined 
himself,  after  reading  a  chapter  out  of  a  humorous 
book  (I  believe  called  the  Gospel  of  Peace),  to  Grant 
and  the  situation  at  Richmond." 

Shortly  after  this  General  Dodge  was  assigned  to 
another  department  and  transferred  from  the  South  to 
the  West.  This  pleased  him,  for  his  heart  was  there. 
In  all  the  years,  through  all  the  excitement  and  anxiety 
at  the  front,  he  could  not  forget  the  plains  and  the  rail- 
road that  he  had  often  constructed  in  his  mind  and  on 
paper. 

In  the  winter  of  1864-'65  the  Indians  were  at  war, 
and  held  all  the  oveiland  routes.  General  Grant  asked 
General  Dodgfc  if  a  campaign  against  them  could  be 
made  in  the  winter.  He  answered.  Yes,  and  the  country 
from  the  Missouri  to  California  was  placed  under  his 
command,  perhaps  at  the  suggestion  of  General  Sher- 
man, for  they  w^^e  both  enthusiastic  friends  of  the  rail- 
road, and  did  more  to  push  it  through,  perhaps,  than 


EARLY  EXPLORATTONS  AND  SURVEYS.   27 

any  other  two  men  in  the  country,  surely  in  the  army. 
At  all  events.  Dodge  was  back  in  the  desert  in  charge  of 
the  Indian  campaigns  of  1865-66.  He  was  now  in  a 
position  to  explore  anew  all  the  vast  region  over  which 
he  had  toiled  in  the  '50's,  and  to  look  into  the  resource'^ 
of  the  country.  He  seems  to  have  been  one  of  the  first 
men  to  comprehend  the  possibilities  of  the  country, 
and  to  predict  a  future  for  the  road  and  the  West.* 

In  these  two  years  he  travelled  every  mile  of  moun- 
tains and  plains  north  and  south,  east  and  west,  be- 
tween the  Arkansas  and  the  Yellowstone,  and  from  the 
Missouri  River  to  the  Salt  Lake  Basin.  In  all  the 
movements  of  the  troops  and  scouting  parties  he  had 
careful  reports  of  the  country  made — its  resources  and 
topography.  As  often  as  the  depredations  of  the  In- 
dians made  a  move  necessary  he  made  a  new  map  of 
that  part  of  his  empire.  When  the  fight  was  finished 
he  would  begin  to  look  the  place  over.  "  He  was  for- 
ever prowling,  like  a  man  who  has  lost  something,"  said 
one  of  his  subordinates. 

It  was  on  one  of  these  exploring  trips  that  he  stum- 
bled upon  the  pass  over  the  Black  Hills  and  won  the 
title  of  "  genius."  The  troops  were  returning  from  the 
Powder  River  campaign,  and  the  general,  as  was  his 
wont,  was  examining  all  the  approaches  and  passes  from 
Fort  Fetterman,  south,  over  the  secondary  range  of 
mountains  known  as  the  Black  Hills.     These  moun- 


*  "  Its  future  is  fraught  with  great  good.  It  will  develop  a 
waste ;  will  bind  together  the  two  extremes  of  the  nation  as  one ; 
will  stimulate  intercourse  and  trade,  and  bring  harmony,  pros- 
perity, and  wealth  to  the  two  coasts."— Chief-Enqineee  Dodge 
to  the  Directors. 


28 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


tains  had  given  the  exploring  engineers  more  trouble 
than  all  the  other  ranges  in  the  Rockies,  on  account 
of  their  short  slopes  and  great  height.  When  the  army 
had  reached  the  trail  on  Lodge  Pole  Creek,  the  general 
took  half  a  dozen  mounted  men  and  a  scout  and  went 
up  the  stream  to  the  summit  of  Cheyenne  Pass.  Turn- 
ing south  along  the  crest  of  the  mountains,  they  kept 
on  far  above,  but  nearly  abreast  of  the  troops  and  trains 
that  were  dragging  lazily  along  the  base  of  the  hills  on 
the  old  St.  Vrain  and  Laramie  trail. 

While  crossing  the  little  valley  of  a  tributary  of 
Crow  Creek  they  came  upon  a  band  of  hostile  In- 
dians. The  Indians  saw  the  white  men  at  the  same 
time,  and,  being  in  a  majority,  set  out  at  a  good  jog 
to  get  between  them  and  the  troops.  Of  course  they 
had  been  watching  the  train  all  day,  but  had  had  no 
idea  that  the  commanding  offcer  with  only  half  a  dozen 
men  would  be  rash  enough  to  come  up  into  the  hills 
and  throw  himself  into  their  arms.  General  Dodge 
was  well  aware  that  it  would  be  much  easier  to  "  stand 
them  off  "  in  sight  of  his  soldiers  than  "  cached  "  away 
there  in  the  hills.  So,  hastily  instructing  his  men,  li^ 
set  out  to  gain  the  top  of  a  high  ridge  that  seemed  to 
him  to  point  down  to  the  part  of  the  trail  over  which 
the  troops  must  be  passing  about  that  time.  After 
gaining  the  coveted  ridge,  however,  he  saw  to  his  dis- 
may that  the  troops  were  yet  a  long  way  off.  It  had 
been  just  about  noon  when  they  had  found  the  In- 
dians, and  the  general  calculated  thnt  if  he  and  his 
men  were  not  detained  by  the  band,  and  if  there  were 
no  breaks  in  the  ridge,  they  could  get  down  to  the  trail 
before  night.    In  a  little  while  the  ground  over  which 


EARLY  EXPLORATIONS  AND  SURVEYS.   29 

they  were  making  their  way  became  so  steep  and 
rough  that  they  were  obliged  to  dismount  and  lead 
their  horses. 

They  tried  in  every  way  to  signal  the  troops,  but  in 
vain.  The  Indians  were  riding  hard  to  head  them  off, 
the  ground  grew  rougher  at  every  step,  the  sun  was 
sinking  in  the  west,  and  the  hearts  and  hopes  of  the 
little  band  of  explorers  were  not  half  as  high  as  the 
foothills. 

Finally  they  eluded  the  savages  and  got  between 
them  and  the  train,  but  the  enemy  gave  chase.  They 
were  within  rifle  shot,  but  still  the  general  and  his  little 
company  hurried  on  down  the  long  ridge.  The  In- 
dians threatened  to  charge,  but  the  general  refused  to 
stop  and  give  battle,  the  result  of  which  would  surely 
be  the  loss  of  eight  white  men.  The  Indians,  through 
some  oversight  on  the  part  of  the  Government,  were  not 
so  well  armer^  as  the  soldiers,  so,  when  the  latter  faced 
about,  levelling  their  many-voiced  Winches^^ers,  the 
braves  naturally  hesitated.  They  had  heard  the  bark 
of  these  death  hounds  before,  and  knew  that  many  of 
their  number  would  be  made  to  bite  the  dust  before 
they  could 'subdue  the  blue-coated  Pathfinders.  As 
often  as  a  moment's  time  could  be  stolen  by  one  of 
Dodge's  men,  a  signal  fire  was  kindled,  but  it  was  not 
until  the  sun  had  gone  down  behind  the  hills  that  the 
signals  of  distress  were  seen  and  the  troopers  came  to 
the  rescue. 

In  going  back  to  the  train  the  general  and  his  com- 
panions kept  along  the  ridge  that  had  saved  them,  and, 
to  the  commander's  delight,  it  led  them  down  to  the 
plain  without  a  break. 


"WWPPP 


80 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


"  Well/'  he  said  to  his  guide,  "  we  have  not  only 
saved  our  scalps,  but  we  have  found  the  crossing  of  the 
Black  Hills,"  and  he  named  it  Sherman  Pass.  Along 
that  ridge  the  line  was  located,  between  the  Lone  Tree 
and  the  Crow  Creek;  and  there  run  the  overland  trains 
to-day,  carrying  the  fast  mail  between  Chicago  and 
San  Francisco. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  BUILDING  OF  THE  ROAD. 

When  we  read  now  of  the  vast  sums  that  were  made 
out  of  the  building  of  the  Pacific  roads,  we  wonder  that 
men  of  means  were  so  slow  to  see  the  possibilities  of  the 
enterprise.  The  very  franchise  went  begging  for  years. 
The  capitalists  of  the  country  utterly  lacked  confidence. 
There  was  no  dearth  of  men  to  agitate  the  question  and 
to  keep  the  matter  before  Congress  and  the  country, 
but  there  was  no  money  offered  for  the  building  of 
two  thousand  miles  of  railroad  that  would  have  to  be 
guarded  to  keep  the  Indians  from  tearing  up  the  track 
and  making  bonfires  of  the  fiag  stations  along  the  line. 

Scores  of  men — some  prompted  by  purely  patriotic 
motives,  and  others  by  a  desire  to  do  big  things  and 
make  money — ^had  wasted  their  own  time  and  fortunes 
and  finally  fretted  their  lives  away  in  a  vain  effort  to 
secure  the  necessary  capital  to  begin  the  construction 
of  the  road.  All  that  was  ever  accomplished  under  the 
charter  of  1862  was  merely  the  effect  of  an  organi- 
zation. 

In  1864,  Congress,  having  been  convinced  that 
nothing  could  be  done  without  more  help  from  the 
Government,  amended  the  original  charter,  doubled  the 
land  grant,  and  enlarged  the  inducements  to  capitalists; 

81 


82 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


but  the  Government,  with  all  its  prestige  and  influ- 
ence, was  unable,  even  with  the  liberal  land  grant  and 
a  subsidiary  loan  of  from  sixteen  thousand  dollars  to 
forty-eight  thousand  dollars  for  each  mile  of  road,  to 
bring  out  the  money  for  the  great  project. 

After  months  of  hard  work  enough  money  was  col- 
lected to  buy  a  flag  and  a  few  firecrackers,  and  then, 
with  the  blare  of  trumpets  and  the  roll  of  drums,  ground 
was  broken  at  Omaha.  Flags  fluttered  over  the  flap- 
ping tents  and  mud  huts  of  the  two  squat  settlements 
t^at  are  cities  now  at  either  end  of  the  big  bridge  that 
spans  the  Missouri.  There  the  people  of  the  two  towns, 
drunk  with  excitement,  saw  the  rails  creeping  out  to- 
ward the  Occident;  but  the  money  owners  of  the  world 
saw  only  the  smoke  arising  from  the  huts  and  tents, 
and  beyond  that — "  th6  desert." 

The  President  was  perplexed.  To  the  worry  of  the 
war  was  added  the  anxiety  caused  by  the  coldness  of 
the  capitalists.  From  the  far  West  came  the  cry  of  an 
isolated  people.  The  dread  of  the  Oregorians,  in  the 
event  of  a  general  disintegration,  of  bein^  gobbled  up 
by  the  British,  and  the  fear  of  the  Californians  of  the 
invaders  from  Texas  caused  the  Administration  much 
anxiety. 

The  Government  now  agreed  that  the  Union  Paciflc 
Company  should  borrow  money  from  private  people, 
giving  a  first  mortgage  on  the  road  and  land — ^the  Gov- 
ernment's claim  becoming  a  secondary  lien — and  still 
capital  refused  to  come  forward.  One  great  draw- 
back was  the  limitation  of  the  charter.  Durant  and 
Bushnell,  who  had  been  instrumental  in  securing  it 
and  effecting  an  organization,  had  tried  hard  to  raise 


i 


At  the  head  of  the  rails. 


THE  BXnLDINQ  OP  THE  ROAD, 


the  money  required  to  make  a  beginning,  and  failed, 
resourceful  though  they  were. 

At  this  moment  some  one  hit  upon  the  happy  device 
of  a  construction  company.  In  the  language  of  the  late 
Sidney  Dillon,  "this  is  not  the  place  to  treat  of  the 
operations  of  the  Credit  Mobilier,"  but  that  is  what  the 
construction  company  was  called.  What  we  have  to  do 
with  now  is  the  ultimate  result.  The  end  was  good, 
whatever  may  be  said  of  the  means. 

The  first  money  received  from  the  Credit  Mobilier 
enabled  the  company  to  commence  constructive  work. 
A  little  grading  was  done  in  the  autumn  of  1864,  but 
owing  to  changes  insisted  upon  by  the  Government  in- 
spectors, work  was  not  begun  in  earnest  until  the  spring 
of  the  following  year. 

Everything  was  done  at  enormous  cost.  No  rail- 
road reached  the  Missouri  at  Omaha  at  that  time.  All 
materials,  machinery,  locomotives,  men,  and  cars  had  to 
be  brought  up  by  boat  from  St.  Louis.  The  wages 
demanded  by  the  men  (often  in  advance  of  the  day's 
work)  were  vastly  in  excess  of  those  paid  for  similar 
service  where  it  was  not  necessary  to  flag  with  fire- 
arms. Men  would  not  go  out  upon  the  wild  prairies 
and  tamp  tie«  merely  for  the  excitement.  There  was 
no  coal  or  wood,  or  fuel  of  any  sort,  save  the  chips  that 
passed  for  fuel  on  the  plains.  The  men  making  the 
road  found  no  ties  on  the  treeless  desert.  For  mile  after 
mile  they  found  no  stone  for  rockwork.  In  short,  they 
found  absolutely  nothing;  only  the  right  of  way  and 
the  west  wind  sighing  over  the  dry,  wide  waste  of  a 
waveless  sea.  The  cost  of  transporting  a  locomotive — 
the  labour  and  freight — ^was  enormously  high.    If  one 


84 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  JRAILROAD. 


were  to  lay  a  line  of  one  dollar  bills  along  the  tow- 
path,  end  to  end,  it  would  not  cover  the  cost  of  the  first 
ties  put  under  the  track.  Like  the  locomotives,  rails, 
and  cars,  they  had  to  be  shipped  by  boat,  and  for  a  long 
distance  cost  the  company  two  dollars  and  a  half 
apiece. 

Those  who  have  criticised  the  construction  com- 
pany have  always  argued  that  material  and  supplies 
were  made  dear  by  it  to  increase  the  profits  upon  the 
job — ^that  the  money  paid  out  by  the  directors  of  the 
Union  Pacific  Company  was  received  by  the  same  men 
as  directors  of  the  Credit  Mobilier,  or  construction 
company.  But  it  will  be  readily  seen  that,  situated  as 
they  were,  the  cost  of  building  the  road  was  necessarily 
very  great. 

The  first  of  these  costly  rails  was  laid  in  July, 
1865.  By  the  end  of  that  year  forty  miles  of  road  had 
been  put  down,  which,  being  accepted  by  the  Govern- 
ment, brought  the  company  six  hundred  and  forty 
thousand  dollars  in  Government  bonds — being  sixteen 
thousand  dollars  a  mile — as  a  subsidy  loan.  The  land 
grant  was  not  available  to  meet  current  expenses.  Up 
to  that  time  there  had  been  no  demand  for  the  land- 
grant  bonds  and  first  mortgages.  These  could  only  be 
used  as  collateral  for  loans  negotiated  by  the  construc- 
tion company.  , 

The  men  building  the  road  soon  became  aware  that 
the  Government,  which  had  helped  so  much,  was  going 
to  hinder  as  well,  because  of  its  ponderous  machinery 
and  an  enormous  amount  of  what  is  generally  called 
red  tape.  Every  mile  of  road  that  received  a  subsidy 
had  to  be  approved  by  the  Government  three  different 


n 

Hi 


THE  BUILDING  OP  THE  ROAD. 


35 


times  through  its  selected  officers  and  alleged  experts 
before  a  dollar  could  be  paid  or  an  acre  of  land  cer- 
tified. 

First,  the  preliminary  survey,  showing  the  general 
route  of  the  line,  had  to  be  passed  upon  and  accepted, 
in  compliance  with  the  law,  and  to  the  satisfaction  of 
the  President.  Again,  as  each  section  of  fifty  or  one 
hundred  miles  was  finally  located,  the  trail  staked  out 
upon  which  the  road  was  actually  to  be  built,  and  from 
which  there  could  be  no  deviation,  it  had  to  be  filed 
with  the  Secretary  of  the  Interior,  and  to  receive  his 
approval  and  the  Government's  great  seal.  With  this 
important  paper  in  his  pocket  the  chief  engineer  could 
begin  work. 

Finally,  when  a  section  of  forty  or  more  miles  had 
been  built  and  equipped  as  required  by  law,  the  United 
States  Government  would  send  out  three  expert  com- 
missioners, whose  business  it  was  to  examine  again  the 
line,  the  work,  the  material,  the  method  of  construc- 
tion, and  then  pass  upon  the  whole. 

Not  infrequently  this  last  lot  of  experts  would  dis- 
agree \yith  the  others  and  disapprove  of  what  had 
alrearly  been  approved.  Once  or  twice  they  ordered  it 
all  done  over  again.  The  company  or  contractor  had 
no  authority  to  swerve  to  the  right  or  to  the  left  of  a 
line  once  located;  but  an  expert,  who  might  be 
only  a  plain,  ignorant  politician,  could  condemn  or 
approve,  and  there  was  no  appeal.  It  might  be  that  the 
Government  expert  saw  the  West  for  the  first,  last,  and 
only  time  when  on  his  official  tour  of  inspection.  He 
could  know  nothing  of  the  dangers  to  be  encountered 
from  snowdrifts  or  washouts,  and  the  result  was  that 


36 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


after  the  road  had  been  built  a  great  deal  of  it  had  to 
be  changed  in  order  to  overcome  these  serious  obstacles. 
Other  experts,  who  sat  in  Washington  and  fixed  a 
standard  for  grades,  roadbed,  cuts,  fills,  bridges,  ties, 
rails,  spikes,  and  joints,  had  never  seen,  mayhap,  the 
dark  river  that  washed  the  edge  of  the  West. 

For  three  long  winters  engineers  living  in  tents  and 
dugouts  watched  every  summit,  slope,  and  valley  along 
the  entire  fifteen  hundred  miles  of  road,  to  learn  from 
the  currents  where  the  snow  would  drift  deep  and 
where  the  ground  would  be  blown  bare.  In  summer 
they  watched  the  washouts  that  came  when  the  hills 
were  deluged  by  what,  in  the  West,  they  call  cloud- 
bursts. These  were  the  only  experts  competent  to  say 
whether  a  draw  should  be  bridged  or  filled,  and  only 
after  years  of  residence  in  the  hills. 

And  who  was  better  fitted  to  say  where  the  line 
should  lie  than  the  engineer  in  charge  of  the  work? 
He  had  me':  ured  it  all  through  months  of  weary  toil; 
he  knew  almost  every  mountain  and  vale  in  the  Rockies, 
swell  and  swale  of  the  plains,  and  yet  a  political  ex- 
pert had  power  to  run  a  blue  pencil  through  his  work. 
It  was  not  long,  however,  before  the  experts  saw  that 
the  engineers  knew  their  business,  and  that  the  Presi- 
dent and  Board  of  Directors  were  as  anxious  to  have  a 
good  road  as  was  the  Government,  and  so  made  but  few 
changes. 

Upon  a  line  located  with  great  care,  patience,  and 
skill,  a  cheap  road  may  be  put  down  and  afterward 
brought  to  a  high  standard  of  excellence.  This,  in  fact, 
is  the  usual  method  in  America.  Our  roads  have  always 
been  in  a  great  hurry  to  get  somewhere,  just  as  our  ex- 


THE  BUILDING  OP  THE  ROAD. 


37 


press  trains  are.  On  the  other  hand,  one  can  never 
build  a  good  road  upon  a  badly  located  line,  and  for 
this  well-known  reason  a  great  deal  more  depends  upon 
the  locating  engineer  than  is  generally  supposed  by 
the  average  reader.  Think  of  what  the  discovery  of 
Sherman  Pass  meant  to  the  Union  Pacific  Company  in 
thirty  years,  even  if  we  take  only  the  passenger  trains 
into  consideration.  It  meant  one  locomotive  for  each 
train,  instead  of  two.  A  locomotive  such  as  would  be 
required  as  a  helper  on  a  hill  costs  about  ten  thousand 
dollars,  and  it  costs  half  that  amount  annually  to  oper- 
ate it.  Four  passenger  trains  a  day  each  way  would 
take  four  engines,  forty  thousand  dollars,  first  cost, 
and  twenty  thousand  dollars  a  year  for  the  thirty  years 
that  the  road  has  been  running,  or  a  total  of  six  hun- 
dred and  forty  thousand  dollars. 

It  is  very  much  to  the  credit  of  the  men  who  had 
the  building  of  the  Union  Pacific  in  hand  that  they 
insisted  at  all  times  upon  making  a  good  road.  There 
is  plenty  of  evidence  that  this  was  the  policy  of  both 
President  Ames  of  the  railroad  company,  and  Presi- 
dent Dillon  of  the  construction  company.  When  some 
of  those  interested  wanted  to  make  a  quick,  cheap 
surface  road,  taking  advantage  of  the  maximum  grade 
authorized  by  law,  the  board  invariably  stood  by  the 
lines  of  the  engineers,  as  offering  the  greatest  commer- 
cial value.* 


♦  "  The  instructions  given  me  by  Oliver  Ames  and  Sidney 
Dillon,  one  at  the  head  of  the  railroad  company,  and  the  other 
at  the  head  of  the  construction  company,  were  invariably  to  ob- 
tain the  best  line  the  country  afforded,  regardless  of  expense. 
Oakes  Ames  once  wrote  me,  when  it  seemed  almost  impossible 


1 


88 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


II I 

m 


From  the  first  to  the  last  mile  the  Union  Pacific 
was  a  well-laid  and  a  splendidly  constructed  road,  and 
that  is  one  of  the  reasons  why  it  has  prospered,  in  spite 
of  its  political  encumbrances,  and  of  the  equally  em- 
barrassing fact  that  men  were  sometimes  sent  out  from 
the  East  to  help  in  running  the  road  who  did  not  know 
a  semaphore  from  a  switchback.* 

to  raise  money  to  meet  our  expenditures :  '  Go  ahead ;  the  work 
shall  not  stop,  even  if  it  takes  the  shovel  shop.' " — Dodge,  Chief 
Engineer. 

*  A  prominent  Union  Pacific  official,  in  yellow  gloves  and 
blue  glasses,  once  asked  a  brakeman  why  the  coach  in  which  he 
was  riding  was  uncomfortably  cold.  The  brakeman  replied  that 
the  heater  was  in  the  rear  instead  of  the  front  end  of  the  car. 
That  afternoon  a  sharp  letter  went  to  the  superintendent  of  mo- 
tive power  and  machinery,  ordering  the  cold  coach  in  the  shops, 
in  order  that  the  heating  apparatus  might  be  taken  out  and  put 
in  the  front  end.  The  mechanical  superintendent  wrote,  ex- 
plaining that  there  was  no  front  or  rear  end  to  a  day  coach ;  that 
all  depended  upon  the  direction  in  which  the  car  was  moving ; 
that  the  heater  had  been  all  right  going  out  that  morning,  but 
that  this  was  a  branch  line,  with  no  table  or  "  Y  "  at  the  other 
end ;  but  there  is  no  evidence  that  the  new  official  ever  under- 
stood the  letter. 

Another  importation  was  being  shown  over  the  road  oy  the 
late  "  Tom  "  Potter,  then  general  manager.  Out  on  the  plains 
there  were  a  great  many  "  Y 's."  At  one  point  they  backed  in  on 
a  spur  to  allow  a  long  train  to  pass.  "  I  say,"  said  the  tender- 
foot, looking  about,  "  there's  only  one  leg  to  this  •  Y '." 

"Oh,  damn  it  I"  said  Potter,  "this  is  no  'Y';  this  is  a  spur, 
and  you  must  not  talk  that  way  before  the  trainmen,  or  they'll 
insist  upon  tying  you  under  the  bridge  till  you  get  used  to  the 
cars." 

This  same  official  once  wrote  a  letter,  it  is  said,  to  the  road 
master,  reproving  him  for  his  wanton  waste  of  steel.  He  had 
watched  a  yard  engine  for  an  hour  going  up  and  down  the 


111 
'I 


THE  BUILDING  OF  THE  ROAD. 


39 


With  competent,  entlmsiastic,  determined  men  at 
the  front,  and  equally  energetic  officials  behind  the 
enterprise,  the  fact  that  a  first-class  road  rvas  the  result 
is  no  great  surprise.  The  wonder  is  that  it  was  done 
so  rapidly,  and  yet  so  well. 

.  The  little  money  that  came  to  the  constructioi  coi  :- 
pany  in  Government  bonds  upon  the  completion  of 
the  first  forty  miles  o-f  track  helped  it  out  considerably, 
but  did  not  wholly  relieve  the  pecuniary  embarrassiucnt 
which  seems  constantly  to  have  beset  it  until  the  desert 
had  been  railed. 

In  18G6  the  company  put  down  two  hundred  and 
sixty  more  miles  of  track,  but  Wc.s  still  struggling  for 
money.  In  the  following  year  it  laid  two  hundred  and 
forty  miles,  reaching  the  summit  of  the  Eocky  Moun- 
tains, making  five  hundred  and  forty  miles  of  rails  west 
of  the  Missouri  River.  The  cost  of  building  over  the 
mountains  was  so  much  less  than  had  beon  expected 
that  the  construction  company  found  itself  with  a  sur- 
plus for  the  first  time  in  its  existence, 

Without  waiting  to  see  what  the  harvest  was  to  be 
beyond  the  range,  the  company  foolishly  distributed 
the  surplus  in  dividends.  Now,  the  fact  that  the 
builders  had  reached  the  dividend  point  caused  a  vast 
amount  of  criticism  without  and  strife  within,  so  that 

yards,  and  there  were  rails  mth  bent  ends,  spiked  down  among 
the  switches,  that  were  never  touched  by  the  wheels  of  the  pass- 
ing engine.  He  ordered  these  rails  taken  up,  straightened  out, 
and  used  in  building  side  tracks. 

The  road  master  did  not  answer  the  letter.  He  called  per- 
sonally and^  explained  to  the  thoughtful  official  that  the  rails 
referred  to  were  guard  rails,  put  there  for  the  protection  of  the 
lives  of  employees  and  the  property  of  the  company. 


40 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


the  company  was  not  as  happy  as  it  had  been  in  the 
days  of  its  poverty.  Even  after  it  had  reached  and 
passed  the  dividend  point  it  seems  still  to  have  been 
hard  pushed  at  times  for  money,  and  if  it  had  not  been 
for  the  men  of  means  behind  the  enterprise,  fearless 
and  willing  to  risk  their  own  fortunes  and  reputations 
in  the  work,  the  road  could  not  have  been  built  when  it 
was.* 

By  the  time  the  road  reached  the  Kr  cky  Mountains 
the  work,  so  big  and  bold,  had  attracted  the  attention  of 
the  nation.  All  the  leading  newspapers  of  the  country 
sent  special  correspondents,  and  at  the  end  of  the  da^s 
work  the  result  in  miles  of  track  laid  went  out  over 
the  wires  to  an  appreciative  public. 

Men  who  had  made  reputations  as  war  corrisspond- 
ents  at  the  South  sharpened  their  pencils  and  went 
West,  for  here,  too,  was  war.  It  took  a  vast  army  of 
men  to  complete  the  road  in  five  years,  and  it  took  an- 
other army  to  protect  the  workers  and  supply  them 
with  food. 

Being  fresh  from  the  army  himself.  General  Dodge, 
the  chief  engineer,  was  able  to  secure  valuable  aid  from 
the  Government  troops,  without  which  it  would  have 
be^n  almost  impossible  to  make  the  road. 

*'  Even  the  jommis'  ary  was  open  to  us,"  says  Gen- 
eral Dodge.  "  Their  troops  guarded  us,  we  recon- 
noitred, surveyed,  located,  and  built  inside  their  picket 
line.    We  marched  to  work  to  the  tap  of  the  drum,  with 


♦  "  Nothing  but  the  faith  and  pluck  of  the  Ameses,  fortified 
with  their  extensive  credit,  and  the  active  financial  aid  of  men  like 
John  I.  Blair  and  other  capitalists,  carried  the  thing  through." 
— Sidney  Dillon,  in  Scribner's  Magazine. 


THE  BUILDING  OF  THE  ROAD. 


41 


our  men  armed.  They  stacked  their  arms  on  the  dump, 
and  were  ready  at  a  minute's  notice  to  fall  in  and  fight 
for  their  territory." 

The  majority  of  the  men  employed  in  the  building 
of  the  Union  Pacific  had  been  soldiers  at  the  South. 
They  were  accustomed  to  camp  life,  and  were  readily 
lined  up,  day  or  night,  when  the  awful  cry,  "  The 
Sioux!  the  Sioux! "  was  heard.  Nearly  all  the  officials 
had  a  well-earned  military  title.  After  the  chief  en- 
gineer came  General  "Jack"  Casement,  in  charge  of 
the  track  train,  who  with  his  brother  "  Dan  "  is  said 
to  have  been  able  to  form  and  arm  a  regiment  of  a 
thousand  men  at  a  word,  and  from  general  to  captain 
it  could  be  commanded  by  experienced  officers. 

One  day,  when  the  end  of  the  track  was  two  hun- 
dred miles  out  on  the  plains.  General  Dodge  was  com- 
ing down  from  the  frorxt  in  his  private  car,  which  he 
always  referred  to  as  his  "  travelling  arsenal,"  and  was 
flagged  ai-  a  place  called  Plumb  Creek.  The  operator, 
breathing  heavily,  told  him  that  a  band  of  bad  Indians 
ha  T  held  up  a  freight  train  with  supplies  for  the  front, 
a  little  way  down  the  road,  and  that  the  train  crew,  in 
a  fortified  car,  was  making  a  last  stand. 

In  another  car  upon  the  special  there  were  about 
twenty  men,  some  taking  a  "  lay-off  ";  a  few  had  been 
discharged  and  were  going  to  the  rear.  The  men  were 
nearly  all  strangers  to  the  chief  engineer,  though  all,  of 
course,  knew  him.  The  general,  upon  receiving  the 
news,  made  it  known  to  the  men  that  a  train  crew  was 
in  immediate  danger,  and  the  men  came  close,  eager 
for  details. 

Of  course  there  was  no  lack  of  arms  and  ammuni- 


42 


THE  STOEY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


tion,  and  while  the  general  warmed  them  up  for  the 
work  ahead,  the  operator  brought  message  after  mes- 
sage from  the  station  near  the  hold-up,  following  the 
fight.  The  excitement  grew,  the  men  pressed  closely 
aboiut  the  general.  The  operator,  bareheaded  and  pale, 
brought  out  the  last  message  verbally.  "The  train's 
on  fire!  "  he  cried. 

Turning  to  the  little  band  of  men — many  of  whom 
a  moment  ago  had  been  cursing  the  chief  engineer,  the 
construction  company,  the  railroad  company,  or  any 
other  company  that  interfered  with  adman's  thirst — 
the  general  requested  those  willing  to  go  forward  and 
rescue  the  men  on  the  burning  train  to  form  in  line. 
Without  a  moment's  hesitation — ^without  so  much  as  a 
glance  at  each  other — every  man  within  the  sound  of 
his  voice  fell  in.  "  All  aboard!  "  cried  the  general,  and 
away  they  went.  Never  had  such  running  been  seen  on 
that  new  track.  Away  down  the  plains  the  smoke  of 
the  burning  train  was  plainly  visible,  and  the  driver 
of  the  locomotive  drove  for  all  there  was  in  the  ma- 
chine. He  knew  that  his  brothers  of  the  rail  were  in 
deadly  danger  there,  and  he  pulled  the  throttle  wide, 
regardless  of  results.  In  a  little  while  the  train  began 
to  slow  down,  and  finally  stopped  not  far  from  the  fire. 
The  Sioux,  bent  on  blood  and  plunder,  did  not  notice 
its  coming  until  the  men  were  out  and  in  line  of  battle. 
I^ow  the  general  ordered  them  forward.  "  At  the  com- 
mand," he  caid  afterward,  "they  went  forward  as 
steadily  and  in  as  good  order  as  we  hud  seen  the  old  sol- 
diers climb  the  face  of  Kenesaw  und(jr  fire." 

After  a  brisk  battle,  in  which  the  crew  of  the  burn- 
ing train  fought  desperately,  the  Indians  were  driven 


I  i 


THE  BUILDING  OP  THE  ROAD. 


48 


from  the  field,  carrying  their  wounded  away  with 
them. 

Depredations  of  this  sort  soon  convinced  General 
Sherman,  the  commander  of  the  army,  that  the  Sioux 
were  not  all  dead,  and  that  this  railroad,  in  which  he 
had  shown  a  deep,  patriotic  interest  for  many  years, 
could  not  be  built  without  the  aid  of  the  Government 
troops,  and  plenty  of  them.  But  he  had  not  always 
held  this  opinion.  Ten  years  earlier,  writing  to  his 
brother,  then  a  member  of  Congress,  he  had  said: 

"No  particular  danger  need  be  apprehended  from 
Indians.  They  will  no  doubt  pilfer  and  rob,  and  may 
occasionally  attack  and  kill  stragglers;  but  the  grading 
of  the  road  will  require  strong  parties  capable  of  de- 
fending themselves;  and  the  supplies  for  the  road  and 
maintenance  of  the  workmen  will  be  carried  in  large 
trains  of  wagons,  such  as  went  last  year  to  Salt  Lake, 
none  of  which  were  molested  by  Indians.  So  large  a 
number  of  workmen  distributed  along  the  line  will  in- 
troduce enough  whisky  to  kill  off  all  the  Indians 
within  three  hundred  miles  of  the  road." 

The  stories  of  Indian  fights  along  the  Union  Pa- 
cific alone  would  make  a  big  book.  Some  of  the  men 
who  passed  through  these  wild  times  on  the  plains  have 
never  been  able  to  shake  off  the  memory  of  those  dread- 
ful days.  There  were  days,  weeks,  months  together, 
when  no  man  could  say  with  any  degree  of  certainty 
that  he  would  still  wear  his  scalp  on  the  morrow.  The 
benighted  native  saw  in  the  coming  of  the  pale-face, 
with  his  horse  of  iron  on  a  trail  of  steel,  the  end  of  all 
that  was  dear  to  the  heart  of  the  Indian,  He  saw  in  the 
wanton  slaughter  of  the  wild  cattle  of  the  plains  the 


44 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


destruction  of  his  chief  article  of  food  and  clothing. 
He  saw  in  the  change  that  had  come  over  the  dusky 
daughter  of  the  desert  some  of  the  awful  effects  of 
civilization,  and  began  to  guard  against  it.  Old  tradi- 
tions were  being  forgotten,  old  customs  ignored. 
With  knitted  brow  the  red  man  marked  the  squaw  in 
the  annual  round-up  of  the  unfaithful.  She  showed 
no  shame  when  pointed  out  by  the  man  she  had  known, 
but  shrugged  her  naked  shoulders  and  allowed  them 
to  guess  the  rest.*  These  and  other  things  made  the 
Indian  desperate,  and  he  took  awful  vengeance  on  the 
white  man. 

Not  many  years  ago  the  writer  was  sick  in  a  rail- 
road hospital  in  the  West.  Over  against  the  other  wall 
lay  the  travelling  engineer  of  the  road,  with  a  broken 
leg.  This  man  had  been  the  driver  of  a  construction 
engine  laying  tracks  across  the  plains.  He  had  seen 
things  that  would  make  many  a  man  gray.  I  had 
known  him  some  years,  but  had  never  heard  him  tell 
any  of  his  experiences;  but  now,  when  the  fever  was 
high,  his  troubled  mind  would  go  ba(,k  and  he  would 
live  it  all  over  again. 

At  first  his  wild  talk  was  allowed  to  pass  as  the  mad 
ravings  of  a  fevered  brain,  but  when  he  began  to  give 

*  "  In  times  gone  by  the  Sioux  had  a  very  peculiar  ceremony. 
All  the  males  who  had  arrived  at  the  age  of  puberty  were  formed 
in  two  lines,  about  four  feet  apart,  facing  inward.  All  the 
females  of  and  above  the  same  age  were  required  to  pass  in 
single  file  between  the  ranks.  Any  man  in  the  ranks  who  had 
within  the  year  been  intimate  with  any  woman  was  obliged  by 
his  honour  and  his  religion  to  put  his  hand  upon  her  as  she 
passed." — Richard  Ievinq  Dodge,  Plains  of  the  Great  Wtst. 


m 


j&^- 


THE  BUILDING  OP  THE  ROAD. 


45 


graphic  details  of  well-known  incidents  the  writer 
questioned  him,  when  the  fever  was  oif,  and  learned 
that  these  things  were  real.  He  had  lived,  seen,  and 
suffered  them,  and  he  told  many  stories  that  have  since 
gone  into  print  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic* 

He  told,  long  into  the  night,  when  the  great  ward 
was  as  silent  as  the  grave,  how  the  camp  hunters  would 
ride  away  at  dawn,  and  never  come  back.  How  the 
Sioux  would  hang  upon  the  horizon  for  days,  and  then 
disappear,  only  to  return  in  the  dark  of  the  moon,  or 
when  they  were  least  expected.  It  was  gruesome  to 
hear  him  recite  the  story  of  the  conductor  who  rode 
out  after  a  herd  of  buffalo,  and  who  was  afterward 
found,  half  buried  under  the  Chalk  Bluffs,  with  an 
arrow  driven  down  at  the  side  of  his  neck  until  the  poi- 
soned point  touched  his  heart.  These  were  not  dreams. 
They  were  awful  realities,  that  would  come  back  when 
the  brain  was  troubled;  and  there  are  scores  of  others 
who  have  gone  through  it  all,  and  who  rave,  no  doubt, 
when  the  fever  is  on,  as  Lieutenant  Murie,  crazed  in 
battle,  raves  in  a  madhouse. 


♦  See  the  author's  Wakalona,  A  Locomotive  as  a  War  Chariot, 
The  Express  Messenger;  The  Engineer's  Story,  Paper-Talk. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


THE  TOMBS  OF  THS  TRAIL  MAKERS. 


All  up  and  down  the  steel  trails  that  cross  the  con- 
tinent from  East  to  West  are  the  unmarked  tombs  of 
the  trail  makers.  From  Omaha  to  San  Francisco,  from 
Kansas  City  to  Denver,  from  the  Missouri  River  to  the 
Mojave  Desert  and  beyond,  if  you  plough  the  right  of 
way  of  these  iron  trails  your  share  will  grate  constantly 
upon  the  bones  of  the  pathfinder. 

Many  a  man  who  left  his  home  and  friends  in  the 
East  to  s'^ek  his  fortune  in  the  far  West  went  out  with 
the  workmen  in  the  morning  and  was  brought  back  to 
camp  a  corpse  when  the  day  was  done.  Perhaps  the 
forem.an  had  neglected  to  get  his  address,  or  had  got 
his  initials  wrong,  or,  it  may  be,  the  man  had  given 
another  name  to  avoid  the  disgrace  of  being  advertised 
as  a  common  labourer  in  the  "list  of  the  dead."  In 
this  way,  and  many  others,  men  fell  in  the  great  fight 
and  were  lost. 

Sometimes  the  camp  hunters  would  see  a  band  of 
buffalo  feeding  away  out  on  the  plains,  and,  taking 
advantage  of  the  wind,  would  go  after  it.  Now  the 
Indians  had  been  watching  this  herd,  knowing  that  the 
hunters  would  ride  after  the  game.  They  knew,  too, 
that  the  white  men  would  come  up  against  the  wind, 
46 


THE  TOMBS  OP  THE  TRAIL  MAKERS. 


47 


and  so,  standing  by,  far  out  of  scent,  they  waited  for 
the  race.  The  moment  the  bisons  put  down  their  heads 
and  started,  the  Indians,  taking  a  swale,  swept  down  to 
flank  them.  On  came  the  wild  cattle,  and  riding  among 
them  were  the  hilarious  hunters,  striking  death  to  the 
helpless  beasts  that  were  fleeing  for  life.  The  horses 
of  the  hunters  had  already  made  a  mile  or  two,  or 
three,  and  were  beginning  to  show  signs  of  fetigue. 
The  horses  of  the  Indians  were  fresh,  and  in  a  little 
while  the  red  men  were  riding  close  to  the  hunters. 

Hiding  in  the  cloud  of  dust  that  the  chase  kicks 
up,  the  Indians  work  up  to  the  rearmost  rider,  who 
reels,  pitches  forward,  and  falls  upon  the  body  of  the 
great  beast  that  he  has  killed  a  moment  ago.  The 
thunderous  roar  of  hoofs,  the  sound  of  split  feet 
cracking  like  a  forest  fire,  the  whistling  breath  and  low 
bellowing  of  the  buffalo,  make  a  din  in  which  it  is  easy 
to  hide  the  bark  of  an  extra  rifle;  and  so  the  work 
of  slaughter  goes  on.  After  the  first  man  has  fallen 
the  Indians  press  on  to  the  second.  The  hunter 
shifts  his  position,  and  the  bullet  aimed  at  him  whis- 
tles past  his  ear.  Surely,  one  would  think,  that  will 
warn  him.  But  no;  he  gallops  on  without  even  glanc- 
ing back.  He  has  often  heard  the  cry  of  a  bullet  that 
has  glanced  from  the  horn  of  a  bull.  The  next  shot 
strikes  home,  and  the  second  hunter  goes  down  in  the 
dust. 

Well  up  in  the  herd  a  couple  of  young  men  are 
riding  furiously.  They  are  not  "camp  hunters." 
They  are  the  sons  of  wealthy  men  in  the  East,  and  are 
liere  with  the  trail  makers,  spending  their  vacation. 
They  are  mounted  upon  the  best  horses  that  money  can 


48 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


buy,  and  the  regular  hunters  have  purposely  allowed 
the  visitors  to  take  the  lead.  Hard  ride  the  Indiana, 
but  their  cayuses  are  beginning  to  fag.  Already  they 
are  within  rifle  reach,  but  they  want  to  be  sure,  for  it 
is  hard  to  hit  a  running  man  when  you  are  also  run- 
ning. 

If  you  look  long  and  intently  at  the  back  of  a  man's 
head  when  he  is  at  a  theatre  or  at  church  he  will  look 
round.  No  matter  how  deeply  he  may  be  interested, 
he  will  turn  for  a  moment  and  look  you  in  the  eye.  So 
when  the  panting  Sioux  have  galloped  behind  one  of 
the  young  men  for  some  time  the  young  p^ian  glances 
over  his  shoUi  r.  Urging  his  horse  to  the  side  of  his 
companion,  he  shouts,  "  Indians! "  shows  his  white 
face,  and  his  friend  understands. 

"  The  hunters? ''  he  asks. 

"  Gone,"  says  the  man  who  has  glanced  back,  and 
as  he  reins  his  horse  for  camp  his  companion  follows. 
There  is  no  show  for  the  white  men  but  to  ride  for  life, 
and  they  urge  their  horses  to  the  top  of  their  speed. 
On  come  the  Indians,  firing  at  the  fugicives.  Slowly 
the  space  between  the  pursued  and  the  pursuers  widens, 
until  the  bullets  fall  short  and  peck  the  dust  behind 
the  heels  of  the  splendid  horses.  The  Indians  are  the 
first  to  note  this,  and  have  reined  in  their  cayuses  long 
before  the  two  "tenderfeet"  drive  their  spent  steeds 
into  camp. 

The  SPouts  ride  out,  and  when  they  come  to  the 
first  dead  hunter  an  officer  dismount?.  A  glance  at  the 
hunter's  head  shows  the  trade-mark  of  the  Sioux.  The 
captain  swears,  and  swings  himself  into  the  saddle 
again.    Bringing  his  glasses  rip,  he  sweeps  the  sea  of 


THE  TOMBS  OP  THE  TRAIL  MAKERS. 


49 


sagebnish  and  sand  hills,  but  there  are  no  Sioux  in 
eight. 

After  scouting  around  for  a  few  hours  the  soldiers 
return,  pick  up  the  dead,  and  ride  back  to  camp. 

The  next  day  the  hunters  are  "  cached,"  a  week 
later  the  "  end  of  the  track "  is  moved,  and  in  a 
month  the  coyotes  are  romping  over  the  forgotten 
graves. 

Below  a  little  mound  near  Monument,  in  western 
Kansas,  thirty-six  trail  makers  have  been  sleeping  in 
one  great  grave  for  a  score  and  a  half  of  years.  They 
were  workmen  engaged  in  grading  and  building  the 
Kansas  Pacific  Railroad. 

As  familiarity  breeds  contempt,  so  had  the  constant 
sight  of  Indians  made  the  men  here  employed  carelesvS 
of  the  dangers  that  constantly  surrounded  them.  The 
scouts  had  seen  no  Indians  for  days,  and  so  had  relaxed 
their  vigilance.  The  construction  train  would  run  to 
the  front,  fling  off  a  few  carfuls  of  material,  whistle, 
and  back  away  for  another  load.  No  doubt  the  walk- 
ing boss  felt  nervous  when  left  alone  with  the  un- 
armed labourers,  with  a  stretch  of  a  mile  or  more  of 
billowed  plain  between  him  and  the  camp;  but  as 
the  hours  wore  away  he  forgot  his  helpless  plight. 

The  wide  plain  lies  sleeping  in  the  summer's  sun. 
The  silence  of  the  desert  is  broken  only  by  the  chuck, 
chuck  of  shovels  and  the  low  murmur  of  the  wind. 
Far  to  the  south  the  camp  hunters  arc  chasing  a  band 
of  buffalo.  Now  and  then  the  black  herd  lifts  above  a 
swell,  and  then,  dropping  into  a  sag,  is  lost  to  view. 
Along  the  horizon  in  the  wake  of  the  flying  band  a 
gray  cloud  of  dust  hangs,  hiding,  like  a  veil  of  charity, 


m 


10 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


the  agonies  of  the  hurt  beusts.  As  the  dust  cloud  blows 
away  a  wounded  bull  stunbles  to  its  feet,  and,  standing 
wide-legged,  like  a  drunken  man,  tries  to  get  its  bear- 
ings. Blood  is  gushing  from  its  nostrils  and  from  its 
ears.  Its  throat  is  on  fire,  but  the  desert  is  dry.  It 
shakes  its  head  violently,  and  wheels  about  ready  to 
charge  the  foe,  but  the  desert  is  empty.  Turning  again, 
it  gazes  down  the  hoof-torn  trail  and  watches  the  melt- 
ing herd,  curving  slowly  to  the  east,  as  a  great  ship 
turns  in  an  open  sea.  The  hunters  are  holding  it 
close  to  camp.  The  wounded  bull  seems  to  see  the 
danger  of  this  and  tries  to  follow,  but  its  legs  refuse 
to  obey,  its  knees  tremble,  its  chin  comes  to  the  dust. 
Kneeling  so,  it  sees  a  red  pool  forming  where  its 
nose  touches,  and  a  moment  later  sinks  slowly  to  the 
earth. 

Meanwhile  the  walking  boss  watches  the  far-off 
herd,  rising  and  falling.  From  swell  to  swale,  from 
swale  to  swell,  they  come  and  go,  until  the  ammuni- 
tion and  the  horses  are  exhausted.  Pulling  rein,  the 
hunters  ride  slowly  back  to  the  end  of  the  track.  They 
have  not  the  faintest  idea  of  how  many  beeves  have 
been  killed — a  half  dozen  or  a  half  hundred;  the 
skinners  will  tell.  Slowly  from  the  camp  a  string  of 
wagons  is  lining  out  to  pick  up  the  meat. 

Now  the  work  train  comes  down  with  another  load 
of  material,  unloads  it  and  backs  away  again,  leaving  a 
barrel  of  fresh  water  for  the  thirsty  labourers.  Out  in 
the  sagebrush  a  gray  wolf  is  limping  away  in  the 
direction  of  the  great  slaughter  fields,  where  friendly 
squaws  and  squaw  men  are  already  hulking  the  dead. 
If  the  wolf  had  known,  it  might  have  saved  itself  the 


THE  TOMBS  OP  THE  TBAIL  MAKERS.         51 

long  walk,  for  hereabout  are  other  butchers,  ready 
for  their  work. 

Silently,  cautiously,  from  every  little  sand  hill, 
from  behind  low  bunches  of  sage — from  the  very  earth 
— peeps  a  feathered  head.  What  a  golden  opportunity! 
The  unarmed  workmen  have  even  cast  their  picks  and 
shovels  aside,  and  are  standing  in  the  semicircle  about 
the  barrel,  drinking  or  Avaiting  for  a  chance  to  drink. 

Noiselessly  now,  but  as  one  man,  the  savages  stand 
up,  and  at  a  sign  from  their  chief  rush  upon  the  de- 
fenceless workmen.  They  even  omit  the  fiendish  yell 
that  usually  goes  with  a  massacre  of  this  sort,  and  are 
actually  upoTi  the  labourers  before  the  latter  have  time 
even  to  cry  for  help.  With  barely  time  to  curve  their 
arms  above  their  defenceless  heads,  the  unfortunate 
workmen  are  beaten  to  earth  and  scalped,  and  when 
the  work  train  comes  up  with  another  load  the  labourers 
have  gone  the  way  of  the  buffalo. 

Having  done  their  bloody  work,  the  Indians  hasten 
to  their  horses,  left  in  a  swale  close  by,  and  by  the 
time  the  scouts  have  been  notified  and  are  ready  to 
follow  they  are  far  away. 


CHAPTEE  V. 


THE   MEETING   OF   THE   RAILS. 


While  the  Union  Pacific  was  building  west  from 
the  Missouri  Eiver,  tii '  Central  Pacific  was  building 
east  from  the  Golden  Gate.  The  law  that  authorized 
the  building  of  the  Pacific  roads  directed  the  com- 
panies to  join  their  rails  wherever  they  met  between 
the  river  and  the  coast.  Very  probably  the  Union 
Pacific  at  one  time  would  have  welcomed  the  straight 
stack  on  the  Central's  construction  engine  at  the  west- 
ern limits  of  Nebraska.  It  i?  equally  probable  that  the 
California  company  would  have  been  content  to  end  its 
track  at  the  dump  of  the  Comstock,  but  by  the  time 
the  Union  Pacific  had  reached  the  crest  of  the  Eockies, 
and  the  Central  had  dropped  a  few  rail  lengths  across 
the  summit  of  the  Sierras,  things  began  to  brighten  up. 
They  were  learning  the  art  of  road  making.  To  use  a 
common,  homely,  but  expressive  railroad  phrase,  "  they 
were  getting  on  to  their  job."  The  chief  engineer,  in 
his  last  and  final  report  to  the  Board  of  Directors, 
wrote:  "  Each  day  taught  us  lessons  by  which  we 
profited  for  the  next,  and  advances  and  improvements 
in  the  art  of  railway  construction  were  marked  by  the 
progress  of  the  v/ork." 

In  making  the  surveys  and  building  the  road  many 


THE  MEETING  OP  THE  RAILS, 


53 


of  the  most  skilful  tind  promising  men  engaged  in  the 
work  were  killed.  Hundreds,  if  not  thousands,  of 
horses  and  mules  were  stampeded  or  stolen  by  the  In- 
dians, but  there  was  no  cessation  in  the  work;  and  now, 
as  the  two  companies  rushed  the  grade,  one  down  the 
western  slope  of  the  Rockies,  the  other  down  the  eastern 
slope  of  the  Sierras,  a  great  race  began.  The  Union 
people  were  anxious  to  build  as  far  west  as  possible, 
while  the  Ce  al  would  go  as  far  east  of  Salt  Lake  as 
the  rails  co'  I  i  be  pushed,  for  there  was  a  profit  in  the 
road  in  the  Salt  Lake  Basin,  and  both  companies  were 
anxious  to  win  the  subsidy. 

The  subsidy  differed  as  the  roads  encountered 
natural  obstacles.  In  the  open  country  between  the 
Missouri  River  and  the  foothills  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains it  was  at  the  rate  of  sixteen  thousand  dollars  per 
mile.  In  crossing  the  Rocky  Moiiiteins  and  the  Sierras 
on  the  California  side  it  increased  to  forty-eight  thou- 
sand dollars  per  mile.  Between  the  Rocky  Mountains 
and  the  Sierras,  where  the  country,  although  not  as 
difficult  as  the  plains,  offered  many  disadvantages,  the 
subsidy  was  authorized  at  thirty-two  thousand  dollars 
per  mile. 

It  will  readily  be  seen  that  the  matter  of  fixing  the 
base  of  a  mountain  was  of  great  importance  to  the 
construction  company.  It  \\  is  left  with  Mr.  Blickens- 
derfer,  who  was  appointed  by  the  Government,  to  say 
where  the  plains  left  off  and  the  Rocky  Mountains  be- 
gan, and  his  decision  seems  to  have  been  satisfactory 
to  all  concerned,  though  there  is  no  evidence  that 
he  had  been  "fixed"  by  the  Credit  Mobilier.  This 
is  probably  an  oversight  on  the  part  of  those  who  have 


'  I 


u 


7HB  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


been  busy  for  the  past  quarter  of  a  century  looking 
for  spots  on  the  corporation  that  built  the  Union 
Pacific. 

The  base  of  the  Sierras  had  been  located  near  Sac- 
ramento, where  the  drift  of  the  mountains  reached  the 
plain.  This,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  was  long  before  the 
heavy  mountain  grade  wab  encountered,  and  there  was 
not  a  little  protesting.  The  original  railroad  est 
madt  it  the  duty  of  the  President  to  fix  the  base  of 
the  several  mountain  langes,  and  here,  in  determining 
finally  where  the  valley  should  stop  and  the  mountain 
begin, "  Congressman  (afterward  Senator)  Sargent,  of 
California,  claims  to  have  imposed  upon  the  most  thor- 
oughly honest  Presideiii  the  United  States  ever  had  by 
laying  before  him  a  map  that  had  been  drawn  to  fit 
the  case. 

Chief-Engiie^r  Judah,  following  the  smoke  of  the 
Supreme  Court,  fixed  the  foothills  at  Barmore's.  In 
determining  the  limits  of  an  old  Mexican  land  grant 
"  bounded  on  the  east  by  the  foothills,"  the  court  had 
made  its  mrrk  at  Barmore's,  thirty-one  miles  from 
Sacramento.  The  contestant  of  the  grant  wanted  the 
foothills  to  begin  far  up  in  the  range,  while  the  railroad 
company  wanted  them  to  run  as  far  as  might  be  down 
into  the  valley,  and  that  is  why  Mr.  Judah  followed  the 
court,  wh^'ch  was  supposed  to  be  correct.  At  any  rate, 
the  decision  suited  him  and  the  interests  he  represented. 
It  was  to  prevent  the  company  from  profiting  by  this 
decision  that  the  Hon.  Mr.  Sargent  sought  Mr.  Lincoln, 
but  Mr.  Lincoln  was  busy  in  the  early  '60's.  Finally, 
however,  the  day  came  when  the  thing  had  to  be  set- 
tled, and  the  President  and  the  senator  settled  it  by 


THE  MEETING  OP  THE  RAILS. 


65 


simply  removing  the  mountains  from  Barmore's  to  Ar- 
cade, a  distance  of  twenty-four  miles.* 

Besides  competing  for  the  fixing  of  the  final  meet- 
ing point,  the  two  companies  building  this  the  first 
transcontinental  line  competed  for  the  good  will  and 
influence  of  the  Mormon  Church,  a  central  power  that 
would  be  of  great  benefit  to  the  roads.  Reconnaissances 
made  by  the  Union  Pacific  between  1862  and  the  end 
of  1864  had  convinced  it  that  the  road,  dropping  down 
from  the  Wasatch  Mountains  to  the  Humboldt  Valley, 
must  go  north  of  the  Great  Salt  Lake. 

But  that  was  not  what  these  modern  children  of 
Zicn  wanted.  Brigham  Young  called  a  conference  of 
all  his  followers,  which  at  that  time  meant  practically 
all  the  people  of  Utah,  and  refused  to  accept  the  de- 
cision. He  prohibited  his  people  from  contracting  or 
working  for  the  Union  Pacific,  bringing  all  the  influ- 
ence of  the  Church  to  bear  in  favour  of  the  Central 
Pacific  line.  The  Union  Pacific  soon  saw  that  here 
was  a  difficult  business  to  handle.  Salt  Lake  City  was 
the  only  commercial  capital  between  the  Missouri 
River  and  Sacramento.  It  was  the  key  to  the  commerce 
of  the  great  basin  controlled  by  this  sagacious  Latter- 
Day  prophet  and  his  followers. 

The  Central  Pacific  Company  began  the  location, 

♦  Mr.  Sargent  gave  the  following  account  of  the  affair  to  his 
friends :  Mr.  Lincoln  was  engaged  with  a  map  when  the  senator 
substituted  another,  and  demonstrated  by  it  and  the  statement 
of  some  geologists  that  the  black  soil  of  the  valley  and  the  red 
soil  of  the  hiils  united  at  Arcade.  The  President  rehed  on  the 
statement  given  him,  and  decided  accordingly.  "  Here,"  said 
the  senator,  "  you  see  how  my  pertinacity  and  Abraham's  faith 
removed  mountains." 


56 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


or  rather  the  examination,  of  its  line  by  th^e  lake  long 
after  the  line  of  the  Union  Pacific  had  been  filed  with 
the  Secretary  of  the  Interior,  and  now  the  latter  com- 
pany waited  nervously  for  the  decision  of  the  Central 
Company's  engineers.  When  the  report  was  finally 
made  it  was  stronger,  if  possible,  in  favour  of  the  north- 
ern route  than  the  report  of  the  Union  Pacific  en- 
gineers had  been.  This  caused  the  Church  to  face 
around  again,  and  back  it  flew  to  the  arms  of  its  first 
love. 

Now  the  dirt  began  to  fly.  The  graders  were  far  in 
advance  of  the  track  layers,  and  as  the  Central  selected 
almost  the  same  route  fol^'  i  by  the  Union  Pacific 
west  of  Ogden,  the  advan^.  xorces  soon  met  and  passed 
each  other.  Instead  of  stopping  when  the  graders  met, 
both  companies  kept  right  on,  and  here  lay  parallel 
across  the  sage-covered  desert  two  lines  of  railroad 
without  a  rail.  This  foolish  business  was  pushed  until, 
by  the  time  the  track  layers  met — when  by  law  a 
junction  had  to  be  made — the  two  roads  overlapped 
each  other  for  a  distance  of  nearly  two  hundred  miles. 
The  rails  finally  met  at  Promontory,  Utah,  eleven  hun- 
dred and  eighty-six  miles  west  of  the  river,  six  hundred 
and  thirty-eight  miles  east  of  Sacramento.  The  entire 
line  was  completed  seven  years  before  the  limit  of  time 
allowed  by  Congress. 

The  driving  of  the  last  spike  in  the  Pacific  Road  is 
one  of  the  few  really  great  events — events  that  stand 
out  like  a  white  milepost  on  a  burnt  prairie — ^in  the 

history  of  this  groat  eountry.* 

' ^ypi^_^^0ji^ 

*  -'It  is  not  too  much  to  say  thai  il.e   prtimg  v»f  1*  ?  Pacific 
Road,  viewed  simply  in  its  rela^r/^a  to  tl  ■;■    {..c-^  (  f  j^: : luletion, 


mf 


THE  MEETING  OP  THE  RAILS. 


fit 


Between  the  1st  of  January,  18G8,  and  the  10th 
of  May,  1869,  the  Union  Pacific  had  put  down  five 
hundred  and  fifty-five  miles  of  main-line  track.  The 
world  had  never  seen  railroad  building  on  so  grand  a 
scale.  A  moving  city  of  one,  two,  and  even  three-story 
houses  moved  with  the  advancing  track  layers,  and  the 
wire  ticked  off  the  result  each  day  at  the  set  of  sun. 
The  people  were  becoming  interested  in  the  great 
work,  but  even  while  the  last  rail  was  being  put  in 
place  those  most  interested  in  the  future  of  the  road 
— ^those  who  had  risked  their  reputations,  fortunes,  and 
even  their  lives  in  the  work — were  still  looking  toward 
the  Orient  for  traffic  and  for  the  final  success  of  the 
scheme.  But  with  all  their  blindness,  the  people  all 
over  the  country  began  to  grow  enthusiastic  as  the  twin 
threads  of  steel  were  about  to  be  joined  away  out  there 
in  the  Utah  desert,  bridging  the  continent.  Nearer 
and  nearer  came  the  engine  from  the  East  to  "the  engine 
of  the  West.  Idle  workmen,  crowded  out  by  the  closing 
of  the  gap,  leaned  upon  their  shovels;  the  tired  trail 
makers  sat  down  to  gaze  in  silence  upon  the  closing 
scene  in  the  great  drama  which  they  had  followed  for 
five  long  years.. 

The  toilsome  task  of  the  pathfinders  was  finished. 
They  were  not  all  there  at  the  end.  Some  had  fallen 
away  back  on  the  plains,  others  west  of  the  Sierras, 

development  of  resources,  and  actual  advance  of  civilization,  was 
an  event  to  be  ranked  in  far-reaching  results  with  the  landing 
of  the  Pilgrims,  or  perhaps  the  voyage  of  Columbus.  In  less 
than  twenty-five  years  it  has  accomplished  results  which  have 
influenced  the  whole  world  more  than  what  happened  in  the 
century  following  the  landing  of  the  Pilgrims." — Sidney  Dillon. 


58 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


and  those  present  peered  into  each  others  faces,  as  if 
still  doubting  that  the  thing  was  done.* 

Looking  back  over  the  steel  trail,  they  knew  that, 
long  as  it  was,  there  were  not  mileposts  enough  along 
the  line  to  mark  the  graves  of  the  pathfinders  and 
other  pioneers  who  had  fallen  in  the  great  fight  for 
this  new  empire  of  the  people.  More  than  one  man 
here  had  grown  gray  in  the  five  years  that  he  had  stood 
in  the  snow  and  sun  of  the  mountains  and  plains.  The 
deep  furrows  upon  their  faces  were  battle  scars. 

Not  many  people  were  present  at  Promontory  that 
day  Tlio  demonstration  when  ground  was  broken  at 
Omaha,  five  years  earlier,  had  been  much  more  impos- 
ing, but  the  people  of  the  whole  country  were  to  take 
part  in  the  celebration,  f 

*  Among  the  men  who  made  the  Union  Pacific  were  General 
Granville  M.  Dodge,  and  Messrs.  Dey,  Reed,  Hurd,  Blickensderfer, 
Harris,  McCartney,  Eddy,  House,  Hudnut,  Maxwell,  Brown, 
Appleton,  Clark,  Hoxie,  Snyder,  and  the  Casements. 

On  the  Central  were  Messrs.  Judah,  Strawbridge,  Montague, 
Clements,  Ives,  Gray,  Towne,  and  others.  Many  of  the  men  who 
took  part  here  met  as  often  as  five  times  in  making  connections 
that  completed  the  several  transcontinental  lines :  at  the  joining 
of  the  Texas  with  the  Southern  Pacific,  at  Sierra  Blanca,  in 
coupling  the  Santa  Fe  to  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific,  in  driving  the 
last  spike  in  the  Canadian  Pacific  at  Craigellachie,  and  in  con- 
necting New  Orleans  and  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  with  Denver, 
in  1888. 

f  "  In  New  York,  Trinity  Church  was  thrown  open  at  midday, 
an  address  was  delivered  by  Rev.  Dr.  Vinton,  and  a  large  crowd 
united  '  to  tender  thanks  to  God  for  the  completion  of  the  greatest 
work  ever  undertaken  by  man.'  In  Philadelphia  bells  were  rung 
and  cannon  fired.  At  Chicago  agreat  impromptu  demonstration 
took  place,  in  which  all  citizeiis  joined.   At  Buffalo  a  large  crowd 


■t' 


'i 


w^ 


"ippiiiiiiiiPiinp 


wp 


THE  MEETING  OP  THE  RAILS. 


59 


Arrangements  for  this  purpose  were  made  at  very 
short  notice.  Through  the  hearty  co-operation  of  the 
telegraph  companies,  all  their  principal  offices  were 
connected  with  Promontory,  in  order  that  the  blow 
of  the  hammer  driving  the  last  spike  might  be 
communicated  by  the  click  of  the  instrument  at  the 
same  moment  to  every  station  reached  by  the 
wires. 

A  small  excursion  party,  headed  by  Governor 
Stanford,  of  California,  came  up  from  the  coast;  but 
from  the  East,  aside  from  the  army  of  road  makers, 
contractors,  and  engineers,  there  were  only  two  or 
three  people,  among  them  the  Rev.  Dr.  Todd,  of  Pitts- 
field. 

As  the  pilots  of  the  two  construction  engines  came 
close  together  the  five  or  six  hundred  people  present 
sent  up  cheer  after  cheer.  There  wim'.  cheers  for 
everybody — from  the  President  of  the  United  States  to 
the  Chinaman  by  whose  artistic  touch  the  grade  was 
leveled  for  the  last  tie.  Brief  remarks  were  now  made 
by  Governor  Stanford  for  the  Central,  and  by  General 
Dodge  for  the  Union  Pacific,  and  at  twelve  o'clock, 
noon,  the  two  superintendents  of  construction,  Mr.  S. 
B.  Reed  and  Mr.  S.  W.  Strawbrilge,  brought  forward 
the  last  tie.  It  was  of  Califomja  laurel,  highly  pol- 
ished, bearing  a  silver  plate,  upon  which  was  in- 
scribed : 


gathered  to  hear  the  telegraph  signals,  fang  the  Star-Spangled 
Banner,  and  listened  to  speeches  from  distinguished  citizens; 
and  *t  every  important  point  t  ^  announcement  of  the  comple- 
tion of  the  work  was  receiv  .(  with  unbounded  joy." — Sidney 
JtStxoN,  in  Scribner's  Ma  ,azine. 


60 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


"  The  Last  Tie 
Laid  in  the  Completion  of  the  Pacific  Railboads, 

May  10,  1869." 

The  names  of  the  officers  and  directors  of  both  com- 
panies were  also  engraved  on  the  plate.* 

*  The  original  incorporators  of  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad 
Company  were  as  follows : 

Walter  S.  Burgess,  William  P.  Blodgett,  Benjamin  H.  Cheever, 
Charles  Fosdiek  Fletcher,  all  of  Rhode  Island. 

Augustus  Brewster,  Henry  P.  Haven,  Cornelius  S.  Bushnell, 
Henry  Hammond,  of  Connecticut. 

Isaac  Sherman,  Dean  Richmond,  Royal  Phelps,  William  H. 
Ptrry,  Henry  A.  Paddock,  Lewis  J.  Stancliff,  Charles  A.  Secor, 
Samuel  R.  Campbell,  Alfred  E.  Tilton,  John  Anderson,  Azariah 
Boody,  John  L.  Kennedy,  H,  Carver,  Joseph  Field,  Benjamin 
F.  Camp,  Orville  W.  Childs,  Alexander  J.  Bergen,  Ben  Holli- 
day,  D.  N.  Barney,  S.  DeWitt  Bloodgood,  William  H.  Grant, 
Thomas  W.  Olcott,  Samuel  B.  Ruggles,  James  B.  Wilson,  of 
New  York. 

Ephraim  Marsh,  Charles  M.  Barker,  of  New  Jersey. 

John  Edgar  Thompson,  Benjamin  Haywood,  Joseph  H. 
Scranton,  Joseph  Harrison,  Qeorgo  W.  Cass,  John  U.  Bryant, 
Daniel  J.  Morell,  Thomas  M  Howe,  William  F.  Johnson,  Robert 
Finney,  John  A.  Green,  E.  R.  Myre,  Charles  F.  Wells,  Jr.,  of 
Pennsylvania. 

Nutth  L.  Wilson,  Aiiuiaa  Stone,  William  H.  Clement,  8.  S. 
fi'Hommedieu,  John  Brough,  William  Dennison,  Jacob  Blickens- 
ilerfer,  of  Ohio, 

Wllllttiii  M.  MnPherson,  R.  W.  Wells,  Willard  P.  Hall,  Arm- 
strong Heatty,  John  Corby,  iif  MiFsouri. 

8.  J.  HonHJoy,  f'wiflr  JJqmhuQ,  Li.  P.  Iluxilhgion,  T.  D.  Judah, 
(fftnies  Bailey,  James  T.  IfyMii,  Cliiiilea  llosmer,  (^havles  Marsh, 
D.  0.  Mills,  Samuel  Bell,  Louis  Moliftue,  George  W.  Mowe, 
Charles  McLaughlin,  Timothy  Dame,  John  P.  Robinson,  uf  Cali- 
fornia. 


'mmmmmmmimif 


•■■■■ipiHipqpiPiWPHnPilP^ 


THE  MEETING  OP  THE  RAILS. 


61 


In  many  parts  of  this  and  other  countries  men 
in  the  multitude  heard  with  mingled  joy  and  sor- 

John  Atchison  and  John  D.  Winter^,  of  Nevada. 

John  D.  Campbell,  B.  N.  Rice,  Charles  A.  Trowbridge,  Ran- 
som Gardiner,  Charles  W.  Penney,  Charles  T.  Gorham,  William 
McConnell,  of  Michigan. 

William  F.  Coolbaugh,  Lucius  H.  Langworthy,  Hugh  T.  Reid, 
Hoyt  Sherman,  Lyman  Cook,  Samuel  R.  Curtis,  Lewis  A.  Thomtis, 
Piatt  Smith,  of  Iowa. 

William  B.  Ogden,  Charles  G.  Hammond,  Henry  Farnum, 
Amos  C.  Babcock,  W.  Seldon  Gale,  Nehemiah  Bushnell,  Lorenzo 
Bull,  of  Illinois. 

William  H.  Swift,  Samuel  T.  Dana,  John  Bertram,  Franklin 
S.  Stevens,  Edward  R.  Tinker,  of  Massachusetts. 

Franklin  Gorin,  Laban  J.  Bradford,  John  T.  Lewis,  of  Ken- 
tucky. 

James  Dunning,  John  M.  Wood,  Edwin  Noyes,  Joseph  Eaton, 
of  Maine. 

Henry  H.  Baxter,  George  W.  Collamer,  Henry  Keyes,  Thomas 
H.  Canfleld,  of  Vermont. 

William  S.  Ladd,  A.  M.  Berry,  Benjamin  F.  Harding,  of 
Oregon. 

William  Bunn,  Jr.,  John  ratlin,  Levi  Sterling,  John  Thomp- 
son Klihu  J».  Phillips,  Walter  D.  Mclndoe,  T.  B.  Stoddard,  E.  H. 
Brodlieail,  A.  II.  Virgin,  of  Wisconsin, 

Charles  Paine,  Thomas  A.  Morris,  David  0.  Bran  ham,  Samuel 
Tlanna,  Joseph  Votaw,  Jesse  L.  Williams,  Isaac  C.  Elston,  of 
Indiana. 

Thomas  Swan, Chauncey  Brooks,  Kil  ward  Wilkins, of  Maryland. 

J'rancls  tl,  \l  Ciirnull,  David  UlakeU«y,  A.  D.  Seward,  Henry 
A.  Swift,  D wight  Woodbury,  John  McKusick,  John  R.  Jones,  of 
Minnesota. 

Joseph  A.  Gilmore,  Charles  W.  Woodman, of  New  Hampshire. 

W  H.  (Irlmon,  ,1  ('  HMmo,  ())m\(»r  Thomas,  John  Kerr,  Wer- 
tor  U.  Davis,  Luther  C.  Clialliss,  .fo^itih  Miller,  of  Kansas  City. 

Gilbert  C.  Monell,  Ai/jUfnstus  Kountz,  T.  M.  Marquette,  Wil- 
liam H  Tayltti    Alvin  Saunders,  of  Nebraska. 

John  EvauH,  uf  Colorado. 
6 


£ 


62 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


row  the  story  that  the  wirea  were  teUing.  A  few 
men  had  made  fortunes  out  of  the  building  of  the 
road,  many  had  failed.  Not  a  few  came  out  of  the  en- 
terprise poorer  than  they  entered  upon  it.  Some  had 
come  to  deep  grief  and  lasting  disgrace.  All  had  been 
abused,  some  vilified — "  libelled/'  their  friends  affirm, 
"  bankrupted,  and  driven  to  the  grave  " — but  they  had 
biiilded  for  posterity  better  than  they  knew.  * 

\\  lien  everything  was  in  readiness  at  the  two  ^nds 
of  the  track,  the  telegraph  instruments  ticked  "  Hats 
off,"  and  tJie  nation  bared  its  head. 

After  prayer  had  been  offered  by  the  Eev.  Dr. 
Todd,  whom  Providence  seems  to  have  sent  out,  the 
wire  said,  "  We  have  got  done  praying."  "  We  under- 
stand," was  the  answer;  "  all  are  ready  in  the  East." 

Now  the  four  spikes,  two  of  silver  and  two  of  gold, 
the  products  of  Montana,  Nevada,  California,  and 
Idaho,  were  produced,  and  passed  to  (irovernor  Stan- 
ford, who  stood  on  the  north,  and  Dr.  Durant,  who 
stood  on  the  south  side  of  the  track,  and  who  put  them 
in  place.  "  All  ready,"  went  over  the  wire,  and  in- 
stantly the  silver  hammer  came  down,  the  stroke  of 
the  magnet  touched  the  bell,  and  told  to  a  waiting  world 
the  story  of  the  completion  of  the  Pacific  Railroad,  f 

♦  Among  these  men  were  the  Ameses,  Atkins,  "Baker,  Brooks, 
Crocker,  Dillon,  Duff,  Durant,  Dix,  Hopkins,  Huntington,  Stan- 
ford, and  others. 

t  "  Washington,  May  11, 1869. 

*'  General  G.  M.  Dodge  :  In  common  with  millions,  I  sat  yes- 
terday and  heard  the  mystic  taps  of  the  telegraphic  battery  an- 
nounce the  nailing  of  the  last  spike  in  the  great  Pacific  Road. 
Indeed,  am  I  its  friend!  Yea.  Yet  am  I  to  be  a  part  of  it.  for 
as  early  as  1854  I  was  vice-president  of  the  effort  begun  in  San 


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THE.  MEETING  OP  THE  RAILS. 


63 


AJ'TER  THIRTY   YEAES. 

To  aid  in  the  construction  of  the  Pacific  railroads 
Congress  made  certain  grants  of  land,  and  in  the  case 
of  the  Union  Pacific  Kailway  from  Omaha  to  Ogden, 
and  in  the  case  of  the  Union  Pacific  Railway,  Eastern 
Division,  afterward  the  Kansas  Pacific,  from  Kansas 
City  to  near  the  west  line  of  the  State  of  Kansas,  the 
Government  gave  aid  secured  by  mortgages  on  the 
properties,  which  mortgages  were  subsequent  to  certain 
first  mortgages.  \VTien  thes?  roads  failed  to  earn  their 
charges  and  passed  into  the  hands  of  receivers  it  be- 
came necessary  for  the  Government  to  determine 
whether  it  would  insist  on  collecting  pay  for  all  the 
money  it  had  advanced,  even  to  the  extent  of  taking 
possession  of  the  roads  and  paying  the  first-mortgage 
bonds  itself,  or  whether  it  would  submit  to  the  usual 
fate  of  a  second-mortgage  holder  of  a  bankrupt  com- 
pany and  scale  down  its  debt.  The  arrangement  made 
by  President.  Cleveland  with  the  reorganization  com- 
mittee of  the  Union  Pacific  was  criticised  by  Senators 
Harris,  Morgan,  and  Rawlins  in  their  report  of  June 
26,  1897,  as  follows: 


Francisco  under  the  contract  of  Robinson,  Seymour  &  Co.  As 
soon  as  General  Thomas  makes  preliminary  inspections  in  his 
ne^r  command  on  the  Pacific  I  will  go  out  and,  I  need  not  say, 
will  have  different  facilities  from  those  of  1846,  when  the  only 
way  to  California  was  by  sail  around  Cape  Horn,  taking  our 
ships  one  hundred  and  ninety-six  days.  All  honour  to  you,  to 
Durant,  to  Jack  and  Dan  Casement,  to  Reed,  and  the  thousands 
of  brave  fellows  who  have  wrought  out  this  glorious  problem, 
spite  of  changes,  storms,  and  even  doubts  of  the  incredulous,  and 
ail  the  obstacles  you  have  now  happily  surmounted  I 

"  W.  T.  Sherman,  General." 


64 


THE  STOEY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


ti 


According  to  the  estimates  made  as  of  January 
1,  1897,  the  total  debt  of  the  Union  Pacific  Company 
is  $92,285,344.36.  The  bond  and  interest  account 
credits  to  March  1,  1896,  are  $20,146',889.33;  further 
credits  on  account  of  transportation  service  to  January 
1,  1897,  $1,600,000;  leaving  a  balance  of  indebtedness 
of  $70,538,455.  As  the  sinking  fund  is  not  to  be  de- 
ducted from  this  sum,  but  is  to  be  turned  over  to  the 
reorganized  company  on  the  payment  of  $45,754,- 
059.99,  the  actual  loss  of  money  to  the  Government 
will  be  $24,784,396.  In  addition  to  this  there  will  un- 
doubtedly be  great  losses  sustained  by  other  creditors  of 
the  company,  because  this  is  intended,  apparently,  to  be 
a  complete  transfer  of  all  the  rights,  property,  and 
franchises  of  the  existing  company  to  a  new  company, 
by  virtue  of  a  decree  of  the  court  and  by  its  assistance 
in  the  execution  of  a  contract  Confjress  alone  can 
ratify." 

It  was  claimed  by  the  senators  named  and  those 
acting  with  them  that  President  Cleveland's  agreement 
to  accept  $45,754,059.99  worked  a  loss  of  $24,784,396. 
This  opinion  seems  to  have  been  verified  by  the  subse- 
quent acts  of  President  McKinley,  who  insisted  on  a 
full  payment  of  that  debt,  and  recovered  for  the  Gov- 
ernment the  full  amount. 

The  managers  of  the  Union  Pacific  claim  that  if 
they  had  not  relied  on  the  compromise  settlement  made 
with  Mr.  Cleveland  they  would  not  subsequently  have 
paid  the  full  debt  demanded  and  collected  by  Mr. 
McKinley.  They  claim  that  the  property  is  not  worth 
the  full  first-mortgage  debt  plus  the  Government  debt, 
but  that,  having  taken  certain  steps  in  accordance  with 


THE  MEETING  OF  THE  BAILS. 


65 


the  adjustment  agreed  to  by  Mr.  Cleveland,  they  were 
compelled  to  go  deeper  when  it  came  to  the  arrange- 
ment with  Mr.  McKinley. 

In  the  case  of  the  Kansas  Pacific  Mr.  McKinley  re- 
mitted the  cficrued  interest  on  the  Kansas  Pacific  debt 
because  it  was  questionable  how  much  that  property 
would  be  worth  when  cut  off  from  full  association  with 
the  line  from  western  Kansas  to  Denver,  on  which  line 
the  Government  had  no  claim. 


p 


CHAPTEK  VI. 


A   BRUSH   WITH   THE   SIOUX. 


During  the  years  that  were  consumed  in  the  build- 
ing of  the  Union  Pacific  across  the  plains,  the  Govern- 
ment scouts,  mostly  Pawnee  Indians,  were  kept  busy 
guarding  the  labourers  against  the  hostile  hair-lifters 
of  the  plains.  Upon  one  occasion  a  band  of  Sioux 
swooped  down  upon  a  construction  train  in  broad  day- 
light, firing  bullets  and  arrows  into  the  frightened 
workmen  and  driving  them  into  a  box  car  that  was 
coupled  at  the  rear  of  the  train  as  a  place  of  refuge  for 
the  men,  and  at  the  same  time  a  place  in  which  to  store 
their  rifles  while  at  work.  Instead  of  seizing  their  rifles, 
as  they  usually  did,  and  returning  the  fire,  the  labourers 
slammed  the  sliding  doors  to,  and  threw  themselves 
upon  the  floor,  behind  the  protection  of  the  sand-filled 
walls  of  the  box  car. 

As  the  Sioux  surrounded  the  car,  which  was  sepa- 
rated from  the  engine  by  half  a  dozen  flat  cars  that 
had  just  been  unloaded,  the  engineer  opened  the 
throttle  and  began  to  back  away.  The  savages  had  not 
expected  this,  and  it  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty 
that  they  got  out  of  the  way  of  the  moving  train.  One 
cayuse  was  struck  by  the  car,  and  tumbled  over  with 
its  rider  underneath  it.  Realizing  that  their  victims 
66 


A  BRUSH  WITH  THE  SIOUX. 


67 


were  about  to  escape,  many  of  the  Indians  leaped  upon 
the  moving  flat  ears,  and  climbed  on  the  top  of  the 
box  car,  yelling  and  shouting,  and  shooting  through 
the  roof,  while  those  who  remained  mounted  galloped 
beside  the  train,  filling  it  with  arrows  and  with  lead. 
The  engine,  backing  up,  could  not  use  her  sand,  the 
pipes  being  then  "  behind "  the  wheels,  and  it  took 
some  time  to  get  them  going.  Meanwhile  a  daring 
labourer  in  the  car,  hearing  the  Indians  upon  the  top, 
grabbed  a  rifle  and  began  to  perforate  the  roof.  Others 
followed  his  example,  and  a  moment  later  a  shower  of 
lead  was  raining  upward,  splinters  were  flying  from  the 
boards,  pricking  and  tearing  the  unprotected  legs  of 
the  Sioux,  and  causing  them  to  leap  from  the  top  of 
the  car  to  escape  the  torture  the  graders  were  inflicting. 

The  engine,  having  picked  up  her  train,  was  push- 
ing the  box  car  away  from  the  red  cavalry  that  had 
been  riding  at  its  flanks.  Having  put  in  a  good  fire,  the 
fireman-  took  refuge  in  the  coal  tank,  followed  by  the 
conductor,  who  happened  to  be  on  the  engine  at  the 
moment  when  the  unexpected  attack  was  made.  In 
their  exciteinent  the  Indians  apparently  had  overlooked 
the  locomotive  and  the  fact  that  it  was  inhabited  un- 
til the  sound  of  its  roaring  exhaust  attracted  those  who 
were  riding  in  the  rear.  Pulling  the  throttle  wide  open, 
the  engineer  joined  his  two  comrades  in  the  coal  tank. 

"  Pull  your  guns,"  he  shouted,  "  and  fire  over  the 
side  of  the  tank;  they're  thicker'n  flies!  " 

Springing  back  into  the  cab,  the  driver  kicked  the 
cylinder  cocks  open,  and  as  the  conductor  and  fireman 
opened  up  on  one  side  of  the  tank,  the  engineer  emp- 
tied his  revolver  from  the  other.    In  the  meantime  the 


68 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


engine  was  beginning  to  pass  the  horsemen,  and  the 
hissing  sound  and  the  sight  of  the  escaping  steam  set 
the  cayuses  wil'd,  causing  them  to  carry  their  riders  out 
of  rifle  range.  A  moment  later  the  white  cloud  from  the 
open  cylinder  cocks  had  completely  enveloped  the 
band,  while  the  ever-increasing  speed  of  the  train 
had  put  a  safe  distance  between  the  pilot  and  the 
Sioux. 

The  engineer  from  force  of  habit  now  glanced  back, 
or  rather  ahead,  over  the  rolling,  plunging  flat  cars, 
and,  to  his  utter  amazement,  saw  a  featherless,  gunless, 
arrowless  Indian  clinging  to  nearly  every  brake  wheel 
above  the  flats.  The  track  was  new  and  rough,  the 
speed  of  the  train  was  simply  maddening,  and  the  pose 
and  position  of  these  poor  Indians  irresistibly  funny. 
The  men  on  the  engine  knew  that  if  the  Sioux  had 
captured  the  construction  gang  not  one  would  have 
lived  to  tell  the  tale.  They  would  have  been  slaugh- 
tered, as  the  thirty-six  unarmed  graders  were  slaugh- 
tered on  the  Kansas  Pacific.  A  few  might  have  been, 
spared,  however,  to  be  tortured  slowly  for  the  enter- 
tainment and  enlightenment  of  the  little  Sioux  and 
their  sisters  in  the  cheerful  glow  of  the  evening  camp 
fire. 

This  being  true,  the  trainmen  may  be  excused  for 
putting  the  Indians  off  between  stations,  and  while 
running  at  a  somewhat  reckless  rate  of  speed. 

Having  reloaded  their  revolvers,  the  three   men 
clambered  to  the  tail  of  the  tank  and  opened  up  on 
the  Indians,  regardless  of  the  box  car  at  the  far  end  of 
the  train.    The  Sioux  had  found  themselves  on  the  top ' 
of  the  train  when  the  engine  started  to  back  away,  and 


A  BRUSH   WITH  THE  SIOUX. 


60 


the  strange  sensation,  the  roar  of  wheels,  the  rolling 
and  .pitching  of  the  flats,  and  the  sight  of  their  com- 
rades being  blown  bodily  from  the  top  of  the  box  car 
had  so  terrifled  them  that  they  lacked  the  strength 
of  will  to  throw  themselves  off.  Perhaps  they  rea- 
Soxied  that  the  lire-horse  must  give  out  in  time,  and 
that  when  it  stopped  to  rest  they  could  get  off  with 
safety.  At  all  events,  they  stayed  there,  according  to 
the  story,  until  the  bullets  began  to  rattle  about  their 
feet,  when  they  loosened  their  grip,  and  the  motion  of 
the  train  flung  them  off.  All  the  enginemen  could  see 
was  an  occasional  red-brown  bundle  of  something  roll- 
ing in  the  sagebrush,  drawn  by  the  suction  of  the 
train,  and  by  that  sign  they  knew  that  they  had  lost  a 
passenger.. 

It  was  a  dilapidated-looking  engine  and  crew  that 
arrived  unexpectedly  at  the  end  of  the  track  that  after- 
noon. Not  a  pane  of  glass  remained  in  the  cab,  while 
the  box  car,  upside  down,  would  not  have  held  corn  in 
the  ear. 

When  the  conductor  of  the  construction  train  re- 
ported to  Major  North  what  had  taken  place,  a  wire  was 
sent  to  Lieutenant  Murie,  who  was  away  on  his  honey- 
moon at  Omaha. 

"  Bead  to  me,  Jim,"  said  Mrs.  Murie  that  evening, 
as  the  young  officer  lighted  his  after-dinner  cigar. 

"I  can't  read  long,  love,''  said  the  gallant  scout. 
"I  have  just  learned  that  there  is  trouble  out  West, 
and  I  must  be  off  to  the  front.  That  beardless 
telegrapher  Dick  *  has  been  here  with  an  order  from 


*  Now  General-Manager  Dickinson,  of  the  Union  Pacific. 


70 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


Major  North,  and  they  will  run  us  out  special  at  11.30 
to-night." 

The  lieutenant  picked  up  a  collection  of  poems  and 
read  where  he  opened  the  book: 

"  Tell  me  not,  sweet,  I  am  unkind, 
That  from  the  nunnery 
Of  thy  chaste  breast  and  quiet  mind 
To  war  and  arms  I  flee." 


t< 


0  Jim,"  she  broke  in,  "  why  don't  they  try  to 
civilize  these  poor  hunted  Indians?  -Are  they  all  so 
bad?    Are  there  no  good  ones  among  them?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  soldier,  with  a  half  smile.  "  They 
are  all  good  except  those  that  escape  in  battle." 

"  But,  tell  me,  love,  how  long  will  this  Indian  war 
last?" 

''.As  long  as  the  Sioux  huld  out,"  said  the  soldier. 

At  eleven  o'clock  that  night  the  young  lieutenant 
said  good-bye  to  his  girl  wife  and  went  away. 

The  scouts  were  stationed  near  Julesburg,  which 
was  then  the  terminus  of  the  Union  Pacific  track. 

The  special  engine  and  car  that  carried  Lieutenant 
Murie  from  Omaha  arrived  at  noon,  the  day  after  its 
departure  from  the  banks  of  the  Missouri. 

Murie  had  been  married  less  than  six  months.  For 
many  moons  the  love  letters  that  came  to  camp  from  his 
sweetheart's  hand  had  been  the  sunshine  of  his  life. 

An  hour  after  the  arrival  of  the  special  a  scout 
came  into  camp  to  say  that  a  large  band  of  hostile  Sioux 
had  come  down  from  the  foothills  and  were  at  that 
moment  standing,  as  if  waiting — even  inviting — an  at- 
tack, and  not  five  thousand  yards  away.    If  we  except 


A  BRUSH  WITH  THE  SIOUX. 


71 


the  officers,  the  scouts  were  nearly  all  Pawnee  Indians, 
who  at  the  sight  or  scent  of  a  Sioux  were  as  restless 
as  caged  tigers.  They  had  made  a  treaty  with  this 
hostile  tribe  once,  but  the  treaty  had  been  broken  and 
many  Pawnees  cruelly  murdered  by  the  Sioux.  This 
crime  was  never  forgotten,  and  when  the.  Government 
asked  the  Pawnees  to  join  the  scouts  they  did  so 
cheerfully. 

The  scouts  did  not  keep  the  warriors  waiting  long. 
In  less  than  an  hour  Lieutenant  Murie  was  riding  in 
the  direction  of  the  Sioux,  with  Lieutenant  Creed  e  sec- 
ond in  command,  and  followed  by  two  hundred  Paw- 
nees, who  were  spoiling  for  a  battle.*  The  Sioux  out- 
numbered the  Government  forces,  but,  as  usual,  the 
dash  of  the  daring  scouts  was  too  much  for  the  hostiles, 
and  they  were  forced  from  the  field. 

Early  in  the  fight  Murie  and  Creede  were,  sur- 
rounded by  a  party  of  Sioux  and  completely  cut  off 
from  the  rest  of  the  command.  Their  escape  from  this 
perilous  position  was  almost  miraculous.  All  through 
the  fight,  which  lasted  twenty  minutes  or  more,  Creede 
noticed  that  Murie  acted  very  strangely.  He  would 
yell  and  rave  like  a  madman,  dashing  here  and  there, 
in  the  face  of  the  greatest  danger.  At  times  he  would 
battle  single-handed  with  a  half  dozen  of  the  fiercest 
of  the  foe,  and  his  very  frenzy  seemed  to  fill  them  with 
fear. 

When  the  fight  was  over  Lieutenant  Murie  called 
Creede  to  him  and  told  him  that  he  had  been  shot  in 


*  This  stoiy  was  related  to  the  author  by  the  lato  Lieutenant 
N.  G.  Creede,  founder  of  Creede  Camp,  Colorado. 


72 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


I 


the  leg.  Hastily  dismounting,  the  anxious  scout  pulled 
off  the  officer's  boot,  but  could  see  no  wound  or  sign 
of  blood.  Others  came  up  and  told  the  lieutenant  that 
his  leg  was  without  a  scratch,  but  he  insisted  that  he 
was  wounded,  and  silently  and  sullenly  pulled  on  his 
boot  again.  .  Then  he  remounted,  and  the  little  band 
of  invincibles  started  for  camp.  The  Pawnees  began 
to  sing  their  wild,  weird  songs  of  victory  as  they  went 
along,  but  they  had  proceeded  only  a  short  distance 
when  Murie  began  to  complain  again,  and  again  his 
boot  was  removed  to  show  him  that  he  was  not  hurt. 
Some  of  the  party  chaffed  him  for  gCvting  rattled  over 
a  little  brush  like  that,  and  again  in  silence  he  pulled 
on  his  boot,  and  they  continued  on  to  camp. 

Dismounting,  Murie  limped  to  the  surgeon's  tent, 
and  some  of  his  companions  followed  him,  thinking  to 
have  a  good  laugh  when  the  doctor  told  him  that  it  was 
all  the  result  of  imagination,  and  that  there  was  np 
wound  at  all. 

Wlien  the  surgeon  had  examined  the  limb,  he 
looked  up  at  the  face  of  the  soldier,  which  was  a  pic- 
ture of  pain,  and  the  bystanders  could  not  account 
for  the  look  of  tender  sympathy  and  pity  in  the  doctor's 
eyes. 

Can  it  be,  thought  Creede,  that  "he  is  really  hurt, 
and  that  I  have  failed  to  find  the  wound?  "Forgive 
me,  Jim,"  he  said,  holding  out  his  hand  to  the  sufferer, 
but  the  surgeon  waved  him  away. 

"Why,  why — you  couldn't  help  it,"  said  Murie; 
"  you  couldn't  kill  all  of  them.  But  we  made  it*  warm 
for  them  till  I  was  shot.  You  won't  let  her  know, 
will  you?"  he  pleaded,  turning  his  eyes  toward  the 


"mm, 


pniq^iiii^ini 


A  BRUSH  WITH  THE  SIOUX. 


73 


medical  man.  "  It  would  break  her  heart.  Poor  dear, 
how  she  cried  and  clung  to  me  last  night,  and  begged 
me  to  stay  with  her  and  let  the  country  die  for  itself 
a  while!  I  almost  wish  1  had  now.  Is  it  very  bad, 
doctor?    Is  the  bone  broken?" 

"Oh,  no,"  said  the  surgeon;  "it's  only  painful. 
You'll  be  better  soon." 

"  Good!    Don't  let  her  know,  will  you?  " 

They  laid  him  on  a  cot,  and  he  closed  his  eyes,  whis- 
pering as  he  did  so,  "  Don't  let  her  knew." 

"  Where  is  the  hurt,  doctor?  "  Creede  whispered. 
*  •    "Here,"  said  the  surgeon,  touching  his  own  fore- 
head with  his  finger.     "He  is  crazj — hopelessly  in- 


saub 


}f 


All  night  they  watched  by  Murie's  bed,  and  every 
few  miniates  he  would  rise  suddenly,  look  anxiously 
about  the  tent,  and  say  in  a  stage  whisper,  "  Don't  let 
her  know." 

When  he  awoke  the  next  morning  he  was  indeed 
hopelessly  insane.  All  he  knew  was  that  he  was 
wounded  and  that  she  must  not  know. 

A  few  days  later  they  took  him  away.  He  was 
never  to  lead  his  brave  scouts  again.  His  reason  failed 
to  return.  I  never  knew  what  became  of  his  wife,  but 
I  have  been  told  that  she  is  still  hoping  for  the  window 
of  his  brain  to  open  up,  when  his  soul  shall  again 
look  out  and  see  her  waiting  with  the  old-time  love  for 
him. 

Creede  called  to  see  him  at  the  asylum  a  few  years 
ago,  and  was  recognised  by  the  demented  man.  To  him 
his  wound  was  as  painful  as  ever,  and  as  he  limped  up 
to  his  old  friend,  his  face  wore  a  look  of  intense  agony, 


74 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


While  he  repeated,  just  as  his  comradt^d  had  heard  him 
repeat  a  hundred  times: 

"  Tell  me  not,  3weet,  I  am  unkind, 
That  from  the  nunnery 
Of  thy  chaste  breast  and  quiet  mind 
To  war  and  arms  I  flee." 


voice. 


"  Good-bye,  Jim,"  said  the  visitor,  with  tears  in  his 


Good-bye,"  said  Jim.    Then,  glancing  about,  he 
came  closer  and  whispered,  "  Don't  lot  her  know." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

TEE  ATCHISON,  TOPEKA  AND  SANTA   F^. 

Thibty-six  million  seventy-four  thousand  two 
hundred  and  fifty-five  pounds  of  freight  were  carried 
by  caravan  from  the  Missouri  River  to  Santa  Fe  and 
vicinity  in  tne  year  1860.  Eleven  thousand  six  hun- 
dred and  ne  men  were  engaged  in  handling  the  traffic 
of  the  Southwest,  using  eight  hundred  and  forty-one 
horses.  With  the  first  sure  sign  of  spring  the  long 
caravans  began  to  creep  across  the  rolling  prairies,  to 
return,  if  they  returned  at  all,  v;ith  the  falling  of  the 
first  snowflake.  It  took  six  thousand  nine  hundred  and 
ninety-two  wagons  to  carry  calico,  silk,  sugar,  salt,  and 
other  things  to  the  Mexican  men  and  women  there  in 
the  old  Spanish  capital  and  ihe  villages  about.  Seven 
thousand  five  hundred  and  seventy-four  mules  they 
had,  and  sixty-seven  thousand  nine  hundred  and  fifty 
oxen,  and  they  earned  that  summer  $5,400,000.  A 
vist  amount  of  money,  indeed,  for  the  tT-ansportation  of 
a  little  more  than  thirty-six  million  pounds  of  freight. 
Two  years  earlier,  in  1858,  the  United  States  Govern- 
ment paid  Majors,  Russell  6c  Co.  $5,750,000  on  a 
single  contract  for  carrying  supplies  to  the  army  under 
Albert  Sidney  Johnston,  Joseph  E.  Johnston,  and  Ad- 
jutant-General Robert  E.  Lee,  in  what  was  called  the 

Utah  war. 

75 


76 


THE  STORY  0^  THE  RAILROAD. 


These  things,  the  richness  of  the  virgin  soil,  the 
vast  resources  of  the  boundless  West,  and  the  fabulous 
fortunes  held  by  the  shrewd  merchants  of  far-off  Santa 
Fe  made  men  marvel  at  the  possibilities  of  the  future, 
and  caused  Colonel  Cyrus  K.  Holliday  to  dream  of  an 
Iron  Way  reaching  from  the  Missouri  Eiver  to  New 
Mexico,  and,  some  time,  on  down  the  desert  to  San 
Diego  on  the  Pacific  Ocean. 

He  told  his  dream  to  a  few  close  friends,  but  not  all 
of  it.  At  first  he  would  build  from  Atchison  to  Topeka, 
forty-nine  miles.  Gradually,  and  by  easy  stages,  when 
men  had  learned  to  listen  to  his  dream,  he  would  ex- 
tend the  rails  to  Emporia,  Wichita,  Fort  Dodge,  and  so 
on  to  the  State  line.  At  times,  when  he  grew  over- 
enthusiastic,  he  would  talk  of  extending  the  road  to 
Santa  Fe,  with  an  arm  reaching  up  to  Denver.  In  a 
little  while  he. had  another  line  from  Kansas  south  to 
the  Gulf  at  Galveston,  but  all  this  was  in  his  mind,  not 
even  on  paper. 

In  time  others  began  to  discuss  the  matter,  as  boys 
catch  the  song  of  a  street  piano  and  go  whistling  it  up 
the  highways.  Some  said  it  was  a  wild,  impossible 
dream,  others  that  it  was  possible,  while  a  few  far-seers 
said  it  was  not  at  all  improbable.  The  colonel's  faith 
finally  caused  him  to  draw  up  a  charter,  and  as  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Territorial  Senate  of  1859  he  secured  its  pas- 
sage. The  first  name  of  the  company  was  the  Atchison 
and  Topeka  Railroad  Company,  but  when  the  charter 
gave  it  authority  to  build  to  the  State  line  "in  the 
direction  of  Santa  F^"  the  name  was  changed,  in 
1863,  to  its  present  form.  On  the  15th  of  the  following 
September  the  men  interested  in  the  new  road  met  and 


THE  ATCHISON,  TOPEKA  AND  SANTA  Ft.     77 

organized,  with  the  following  Board  of  Directors:  S.  C. 
Pomeroy,  L.  C.  Challis,  K.  F.  Stringfellow,  D.  L. 
Lakin,  C.  K.  Holliday,  F.  L.  Crane,  Jacob  Safford, 
H.  W.  Farnesworth,  S.  N.  Wood,  Joseph  Frost,  W.  11. 
Sandus,  and  W.  F.  M.  Arney.  Colonel  Holliday  was 
elected  president,  P.  T.  Abel  secretary,  and  M.  C. 
Dickey  treasurer.  At  the  first  meeting  the  sum  of 
fifty-two  thousand  dollars  was  paid  in  for  a  preliminary 
survey,  but  the  fearful  drought  of  1860  put  a  stop  to 
all  things  that  would  cost  money  in  Kansas,  and 
blighted  the  hopes  of  all  save  the  indefeasible  Colonel 
Holliday. 

In  1863,  Congress,  through  the  Kansas  Legislature, 
gave  three  million  acres  of  land  to  aid  in  the  construc- 
tion of  the  road — about  sixty-four  hundred  acres  to 
the  mile.  At  the  next  annual  election  Senator  Pom- 
eroy, for  political  reasons,  was  made  president.  Colonel 
Holliday  taking  the  secretaryship  of  the  company.  The 
new  president  (again  for  political  reasons)  rubbed 
from  the  map  the  line  running  down  to  the  Gulf,  which 
was  a  part  of  HoUiday^s  "  dream,"  and  that  is  why  the 
Gulf  line  does  not  appear  on  the  maps  made  between 
1865  and  1869.  One  of  the  many  conditions  under 
which  the  grant  of  land  was  made  was  that  the  road 
should  be  completed  to  the  State  line  "  in  the  direction 
of  Santa  F6  "  within  ten  years.  For  seven  long  years 
the  plucky  promoter  importuned  the  capitalists  of  tha 
East  to  take  up  his  enterprise,  but  was  met  everywhere 
with  rebuff  and  ridicule. 

In  1867,  George  W.  Beach, of  New  York,  contracted 
to  build  the  entire  road  as  then  contemplated,  but  failed 

to  carry  out  the  agreement.    F.  J.  Peter,  of  Dodge, 
7 


78 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


Lord  &  Co.,  of  Cincinnati,  took  up  the  work  abandoned 
by  Mr.  Beach,  and  signed  to  build  from  Topeka  to 
•  Burlingame,  Topeka  being  accessible  over  the  Kansas 
Pacific. 

Albert  A.  Kobinson  was  the  first  engineer  employed 
by  Mr.  Peter.  He  set  the  first  stake  and  marked  the 
trail  across  the  Great  American  Desert  to  the  Pacific 
slope.  Later  on  we  shall  see  him  racing  over  the  plains, 
up  the  wild  canons,  planting  his  "  colours  "  in  narrow 
passes  and  holding  the  same  for  the  Santa  Fe,  for  to 
him  belongs  the  honour  of  having  built  every  mile 
of  this  vast  system  not  acquired  by  purchase.  At  first 
it  was  easy  enough,  in  the  partly  settled  section  of 
Kansas  near  the  river,  but  as  the  little  band  of  locating 
engineers  pushed  out  over  the  undulating  plain  the 
work  became  hard  and  extremely  hazardous.  All  day 
they  would  ride  or  drive  or  walk  across  the  houseless 
prairie,  and  sleep  at  night  under  the  shelter  of  the 
stars.  Once  they  drove  a  stake,  a  buffalo  bull  came  and 
smelled  of  it,  snorted,  backed  off,  and  stood  staring  at 
the  thing,  trying  to  understand.  A  year  later  a  town 
stood  there,  a  locomotive  screamed  along  the  rail,  and 
upon  either  side  of  the  track  for  the  length  of  a  freight 
train — high  and  white  as  a  snowdrift — lay  the  bleach- 
ing bones  of  buffalo.  All  the  wide  West  seemed  to  have 
been  turned  into  one  great  slaughterhouse.  Dodge 
City  alone  shipped  three  hundred  thousand  robes  that 
had  been  ruthlessly  torn  from  the  doomed  cattle  of 
the  plains  in  the  first  twelve  months  following  the 
advent  of  the  railway.  It  had  to  be  so,  they  6;iy.  In 
order  to  subdue  the  Indian  they  must  cut  off  his  com- 
missariat.   What  rivers  of  blood  have  been  made  to  run 


w 


'■\ 


THE  ATCHISON,   TOPEKA  AND  SANTA  Ffi.      79 

because  of  the  red  man!  It  is  all  over  now.  Where 
lately  the  painted  pirates  of  the  plain  swooped  down 
upon  the  crawling  caravan,  we  hear  the  song  of  a 
reaper  reaping  in  the  field.  A  schoolhouse  marks  the 
site  of  a  hard-fought  battle  from  which  no  man 
escaped,  and  happy  children  romp  over  the  unmarked 
graves  of  the  forgotten  dead.  Here  in  the  tall  grass 
the  pathfinder  and  his  handful  of  helpers  used  to  lie 
and  listen  for  the  muffled  footstep  of  the  feathered 
brave.  At  the  end  of  each  succeeding  day  they  kindled 
a  camp  fire  yet  a  little  farther  from  home.  The  In- 
dians of  the  North  had  seen  men  do  this  same  thing  on 
the  plains  of  Nebraska,  Colorado,  and  Wyoming,  and 
had  drifted  South  to  get  out  of  hearing  of  the  fire- 
horse. 

Crossing  the  old  Santa  Fe  trail,  they  stumbled 
upon  the  stakes  planted  by  Robinson,  and  raised  the 
war  whoop  and  hair,  and,  sweeping  the  sand  hills  as  a 
simoom  sweeps  the  Sahara,  killed  or  captured  every  un- 
protected white  man  that  crossed  their  trail.  As  the 
waste  widened  between  the  little  army  of  stake  plant- 
ers and  civilization,  their  dangers  multiplied.  The 
grass  grew  shorter,  the  air  clearer,  the  sky  bluer,  while 
the  rivers,  growing  shallow,  lay  leagues  apart,  and  often 
sank  in  the  sand  as  if  to  eacape  the  scorching  sun.  The 
wind,  blowing  steadily  from  the  West,  filled  their  eyes 
with  alkali  dust  until  they  were  almost  blinded.  Now 
and  then  a  grim  and  bearded  scout  would  cross  the 
trail  and  warn  them  to  beware  of  Indians.  In  addition 
to  all  these  dangers,  the  scouts  and  trappers  began  to 
drop  hints  of  Mexican  marauders,  half-breeds,  plain 
white  horse  thieves,  and  highwaymen  of  almost  every 


80 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


kind  and  colour.  In  time  it  became  necessary  to  work 
by  day  under  the  protection  of  an  advance  guard,  and 
they  slept  at  night,  if  they  slept  at  all,  with  gaunt 
wolves  watching  them  from  neighbouring  sand  hills. 
At  times  they  measured  miles  beside  the  old  trail,  in 
sight  of  the  creeping  caravan,  but  night  usually  found 
them  alone  in  the  endless  waste  of  sagebrush  and  si- 
lence. The  fresh  supplies  that  used  to  come  to  them 
once  a  week  came  once  a  month  now.  Men  grew  weary 
of  the  cloudless  sky  and  dry  white  earth  and  took  their 
time.  Others  sickened  and  died.  Mules  and  horses 
perished  for  want  of  water,  but  these  "  soldiers  of  for- 
tune "  fought  on  to  the  end.  It  was  weeks,  months — it 
was  years  before  they  saw  the  white  caps  of  the  great 
Kockies  gleaming  in  the  sun,  and  even  then  they  were 
unable  to  guess  how  many  moons  must  wane  before 
they  could  come  to  the  foothills. 

At  times  the  prowling  savages  would  find  their 
cache  and  rob  them  of  all  their  supplies.  Often  at 
night,  when  the  weary  workers  had  fallen  asleep,  the 
Indians  would  rush  the  camp  and  stampede  and  carry 
away  all  the  animals,  leaving  the  chief  engineer  and 
his  men  to  walk  until  another  supply  of  horses  or 
mules  could  be  secured  from  a  passing  caravan.  Some- 
times wild  tribes  from  the  North  would  drive  the  sur- 
veyors from  the  field,  pull  up  their  stakes,  and  burn 
them  or  fling  them  away  in  the  sagebrush.  It  might 
be  days  or  weeks  before  the  plucky  pathfinders  were 
permitted  to  resume  their  work.  At  last,  sunburned 
and  bearded,  the  little  army  of  locating  engineers  came 
near  to  the  great  Kockies  and  felt  the  cool  breath  of 
the  mountain  breeze  that  blew  down  from  the  snowy 


If 


c3 


o 
a; 


O 


-«.).-'■ 


THE  ATCHISON,   TOPEKA  AND  SANTA  Pfi.     gl 


heights.  Now,  as  the  surface  of  this  sun-dried  sea  grew 
rougher,  heaving  and  rolhng  as  the  breakers  roll  upon 
a  lifting  beach,  it  became  necessary  to  employ  con- 
stantly a  guide.  This  guide  was  usually  an  old  scout 
or  trapper,  who  knew  the  mountains  and  plains  as  a 
P  nnsylvania  farmer  knows  his  forty-acre  farm.  This 
man  knew  almost  precisely  how  far  it  was  from  hill 
to  hill.  Gazing  upon  the  surface  of  a  river,  he  could 
tell  you  the  depth  of  the  stream  and  the  nature  of  the 
sand  over  which  it  swept.  By  dropping  a  pebble  from  a 
canon  wall  and  counting  softly  to  himself,  he  deter- 
mined the  depth  of  the  gorge.  Standing  at  the  foot  of 
a  range,  he  could  measure  its  mountains  with  won- 
derful accuracy  with  his  naked  eye. 

"  Which  of  these  passes  is  the  lower?  "  an  engineer 
once  asked  of  old  Jim  Bridger. 

Yon,"  said  the  scout,  pointing  to  the  south  pass. 
I    should    say    they    were    of   about    the    same 
height." 

'*  Put  yer  clock  on  'em,"  said  Jim,  "  an'  if  yon  gap 
ain't  a  thousand  er  two  thousand  feet  the  lowest  ye  kin 
have  'em  both." 

Now  it  happened  that  the  engineer  had  selected  the 
north  pass,  but,  being  persuaded  by  the  scout,  he  made 
the  necessary  test,  and  found  the  south  pass  just  fifteen 
hundred  feet  lower  than  the  other. 

And  so,  guided  by  the  faithful  scout,  they  came  at 
last  to  the  foothills,  bathed  their  hot  faces  and  weary 
feet  in  the  cooling  stream,  threw  themselves  upon  the 
soft  sward,  and  were  soon  lulled  to  sleep  by  the  murmur 
of  the  rill. 


« 


iC 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE   BEER  OF  THE  SANTA  P^. 

While  prospecting  in  the  archives  of  the  State 
Historical  Society  at  Topeka  the  writer  unearthed  an 
interesting  clipping  from  a  local  paper  printed  in  1860. 
It  is  noteworthy  as  showing  how  a  man  and  his  mis- 
sion may  be  misunderstood.  Of  course,  there  were 
politicians  and  political  factions  then  as  now.  The 
road  and  its  boomers  had  their  political  friends  and 
political  enemies,  and  yet  it  is  difficult  to  understand 
at  this  distance  and  to  excuse  the  publication  of  such 
stories  as  this  paper  appears  to  be  endeavouring  to  an- 
swer. It  had  been  a  hard  year  for  the  home  makers, 
and  much  money  had  been  sent  from  the  States  to  feed 
the  victims  of  the  terrible  drought.  The  following 
was  printed  under  the  heading.  The  Starvation  Rail- 
road: 

"  It  is  with  a  good  deal  of  gratification  that  we  are 
able  to  announce  that  the  Atchison,  Topeka  and  Santa 
Fe  Railroad,  which  has  been  a  source  of  so  much  levity 
with  many  of  our  contemporaries,  is  in  a  fair  way  to 
realize  the  expectations  of  its  projectors.  .  .  .  The 
building  of  this  road  is  an  independent  enterprise,  and 
although  inaugurated  as  one  means  of  affording  relief 
to  those  who  look  only  to  the  labour  of  their  hands  for 
82 


■|, 


THE  SEER  OP  THE  SANTA  F6. 


83 


subsistence,  it  is  yet  separate  and  distinct  from  all 
measures  of  relief  which  have  yet  been  or  may  here- 
after be  adopted.  .  .  . 

"  It  is  objected  that  many  weeks — perhaps  months 
— must  elapse  before  aid  by  this  means  can  be  effective, 
by  reason  of  the  necessary  delay  in  perfecting  surveys, 
but  it  must  Jbe  remembered  that  it  is  not  during  the 
coming  winter  merely  that  our  people  must  be  fed. 
Long  months  must  elapse  before  we  can  again  become  a 
self-sustaining  people;  and  while  we  trust  that  the  gen- 
erosity of  our  friends  in  the  States  will  not  flag,  it  must 
be  apparent  to  all  that  their  gratuities  must  be  seconded 
by  some  practical  plan  of  labour  and  public  improve- 
ment, or  the  drain  upon  the  benevolent  will  become 
enormous,  and  our  people  in  danger  of  becoming  de- 
moralized by  too  implicit  dependence  upon  charity. 
This  project,  then,  steps  in  and  affords  to  the  many 
thousands  who  are  now  out  of  employment  an  oppor- 
tunity to  place  themselves  above  want." 

The  editorial  then  closed  with  the  startling  an- 
nouncement that  "  not  one  cent  of  the  money  collected 
for  charitable  purposes  is  to  go  to  the  railroad." 

This  gives  only  a  faint  notion  of  what  the  pro- 
jectors of  the  enterprise  had  to  contend  with  even  in 
the  West,  where  every  one,  it  would  seem,  must  share 
the  benefit  of  the  expenditure  of  a  vast  amount  of 
money.  Men  who  were  upon  the  ground,  who  knew 
the  country  and  its  possibilities,  were  impatient  with 
the  capitalists  of  the  East  because  they  hesitated;  but 
when  we  come  to  count  up  the  hundreds  of  millions  of 
dollars  that  have  been  invested  in  American  railroads 
within  the  past  quarter  of  a  century  (one  hundred 


84 


THE  STORY  Ot?  THE  RAILROAD. 


thousand  miles  of  which  pay  nothing  upon  the  invest- 
mcni;),  we  are  bound  to  acknowledge  that  the  capitalist 
has  not  been  timid.  Indeed,  he  has  rushed  in,  in 
many  iiistanccs,  where  angels  might  fear  to  tread,  and 
sometimes  to  his  sorrow.  "  Money  invested  in  the 
Great  American  Desert  will  never  come  back,"  said 
the  careful  capitalist,  and  wise  men ,  in  Congress 
were  saying  the  same  thing  up  to  the  day  almost  on 
which  the  building  of  the  Santa  F6  was  actually 
begun. 

There,  in  the  capital  of  Kansas,  you  can  find  to-day 
the  prophet  of  the  Santa  F6,  still  vigorous  and  young — 
just  how  young  he  will  not  tell;  and  among  the  older 
residents  there  are  many  who  are  proud  of  relating 
that  they  "  helped  shovel  the  first  dirt "  in  Octo- 
ber, 1868,  nearly  ten  years  from  the  day  upon  which 
the  company  came  into  existence.  It  would  not  have 
been  inappropriate  for  this  little  band  of  graders  to 
have  raised  a  column  upon  the  low  mound  of  dirt  they 
threw  up  that  day  and  to  have  chiselled  thereon: 

"  Here  endeth  the  trail  of  the  Indian,  the  buffalo, 
the  caravan,  and  the  cowboy." 

Of  all  these  men  and  things  that  passed  away  with 
the  tolling  of  the  bell  of  the  first  rolling,  quivering  loco- 
motive that  crossed  the  plains,  the  buffalo  has  our 
deepest  sympathy. 

Poor,  clumsy,  helpless,  hunted  beast  I  They  made 
it  contribute  its  flesh  to  feed  the  hungry  graders 
of  the  road,  and  almost  the  first  train  back  to 
civilization  carried  its  blanket,  and  then  came  back 
for  its  bones.  In  fact,  it  was  the  very  existence 
of  the  buffalo  that  gave  men  faith  in  the  project. 


THE  SEER  OP  THE  SANTA  Ft. 


85 


It  is  said  of  Thomas  J.  Peter,  who  built  the  first  thou- 
sand miles  of  the  road,  that  he  came  to  Kansas  for  the 
firpt  time,  not  with  the  belief  that  the  road  would  bo 
built,  but  rather  to  satisfy  himself  of  the  utter  imprac- 
ticability of  the  enterprise,  but  that  the  moment  he  saw 
the  vast  herds  of  bison  feeding  upon  the  wild  grass  he 
said  that  beneath  that  grass  was  bread  for  millions 
of  men. 

A  temporary  bridge  was  constructed  over  the  Kaw 
at  Topeka,  and  the  "  end  of  the  track  "  began  to  creep 
slowly  toward  Santa  F^  and  the  Pacific  coast.  Even 
then  not  many  men  believed  that  a  railroad  would  ever 
pay  beyond  a  few  hundred  miles  west  of  the  Missouri 
River,  but  the  Government,  they  said,  might  extend 
the  line  to  the  coast,  in  order  to  open  a  mail  route 
through  the  Southwest  and  to  facilitate  the  handling 
of  the  army  and  army  supplies.  In  fact,  there  had  been 
talk  for  years  of  a  line  to  be  built  by  the  Government 
over  what  was  called  the  thirty-fifth-parallel  route 
through  New  Mexico  and  Arizona. 

There  was  great  interest  in  both  Atchison  and 
Topeka  when  work  had  actually  commenced,  for  both 
were  playing  for  first  place  as  the  road's  permanent 
headquarters,  as  well  as  for  the  distinction  of  being 
the  first  city  in  the  State.  With  all  his  gifts  as  a 
prophet,  the  father  of  the  great  Kansas  Railroad  was 
unable  to  foretell  at  that  time  that  the  metropolis  of 
Kansas  would  eventually  be  in  Missouri.  Indeed,  it 
would  have  given  the  people  of  Kansas  an  opportunity 
to  have  demonstrated  the  truth  of  the  old  saying  that  a 
prophet  is  not  without  honour  save  in  his  own  coun- 
try, if  such  a  prediction  had  been  published. 


86 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


It  must  have  been  a  big  undertaking  to  persuade 
an  Eastern  man  that  the  new  road,  which  was  to  run 
from  one  side  of  a  plague-stricken  Territory  to  the 
other,  was  a  good  thing.  Fancy  a  capitalist  opening 
his  mail  and  finding  an  invitation  to  invest  in  a  Kansas 
railroad,  and  in  the  same  mail  a  prayer  for  help  for  the 
starving  sufferers  from  the  drought  in  that  same  region; 
but  somehow,  somewhere,  in  one  way  or  another,  the 
money  was  obtained — a  good  deal  of  it  at  home.  Poor 
as  they  were,  the  people  were  willing  to  help  to  make 
the  road  which  was  to  help  to  make  Kansas.  Here,  for 
the  first  time  in  the  history  of  this  country,  so  far  as  we 
know,,  the  several  counties  through  which  a  proposed 
road  ran  voted  bonds  for  its  building.  By  law  they 
were  1;  aited  to  two  hundred  thousand  dollars,  but  some 
went  to  a  quarter  of  a  millioi;!,  while  nearly  every 
county  touched  by  the  main  line  contributed  the  full 
amount.  And  well  they  might,  for  aside  from  tLe 
benefits  a  railroad  would  bring,  each  of  these  counties 
annually  received  thousands  of  dollars  in  taxes  from 
the  railroad.  Reno  County,  for  example,  could  give  a 
quarter  of  a  million  and  get  it  all  back  in  taxes  in 
one  year. 

It  was  a  great  day  that  marked  the  completion  of 
the  road  to  Wakarusa,  thirteen  miles  from  Topeka. 
Mr.  Peter,  the  builder  and  first  superintendent,  bor- 
rowed a  locomotive  and  a  coach  from  a  railroad  with 
which  he  had  been  connected,  and  gave  a  gruau  excur- 
sion to  "the  end  of  the  train.''  He  was  an  ardent 
prohibitionist,  and  would  have  no  intoxicating  bever- 
ages on  the  train,  but  some  of  the  more  thoughtful 
people  of  the  place  provided  themselves  with  bottled 


THE  SEER  OF  THE  SANTA  ifi. 


87 


beer  and  soda  biscuits  and  prepared  to  celebrate.  To 
be  sure,  the  road  was  quite  new,  there  were  many  low 
joints  and  high  centres,  but  the  driver  caught  the  en- 
thusiasm that  seemed  to  be  contagious  and  "  let  her 
go."  He  covered  the  entire  line — nearly  thirteen  miles 
— in  a  little  over  thirty  minutes. 

The  people  of  the  little  settlement  turned  out  en 
masse  to  witnesb  the  coming  of  the  cars.  There  was  a 
big  feast,  with  speeches,  and  toasts  that  were  drunk  in 
anything  a  man  happened  'to  crave  or  have,  from 
whisky  to  spring  water.  Some  of  the  orators  predicted 
great  things  when  the  road  should  reach  the  State  line, 
bui;  each  of  these  usually  glanced  about  to  see  how 
his  prophecy,  in  which  he  himself  had  little  or  no 
faith,  was  being  received.  To  be  sure,  nobody  was 
boimd  to  make  his  predictions  good,  and  as  they  were 
all  out  for  a  good  time,  the  guests  of  the  company, 
they  could  afford  to  be  liberal  with  their  forecasts. 
Finally,  the  time  came  for  a  speech  from  Colonel  HoUi- 
day,  the  originator  of  the  enterprise.  He  was  received 
with  the  wildest  enthusiasm.  His  road  was  an  estab- 
lished fact,  thev  could  see  it  and  hear  "  the  steam  cars 
blow."  His  dream  had  come  true.  Even  his  neigh- 
bours, who  are  usually  slowest  to  recognise  real  merit  so 
close  to  home,  said  that  he  had  done  a  wonderful  thing, 
but  they  were  by  no  means  prepared  for  some  of  the 
predictions  which  the  pathfinder  was  about  to  make. 

After  thanking  the  people  for  the  enthusiastic  re- 
ception they  had  given  the  road,  he  said  that  they 
would  build  a  branch  to  southern  Kansas  and  the  In- 
dian Territory.  This  statement  caused  thoughtful 
men  to  nudge  each  other.     In  the  next  breath  the 


88 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


southern  Kansas  branch  was  completed  to  Galveston, 
and  men  smiled  broadly.  In  a  little  while  the  main, 
line  had  crept  across  the  plains  and  a  branch  had  been 
built  to  Denver.  Eeturning  to  the  main  line,  the 
colonel  strengthened  his  company  by  building  a  num- 
ber of  feeders  in  western  Kansus,  and,  having  secured 
more  money,  some  new  and  heavy  equipment,  took  a 
run  for  the  crest  of  the  continent.  Now  the  audience 
entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  fun,  and  cheered  the 
speaker.  It  was  hard  pouncing  over  Baton  Pass.  At 
times  it  seemed  as  if  the  pathfinder  would  not  get  be- 
yond the  hill,  but  finally  the  man  for  the  occasion  was 
discovered,  and  after  a  few  zigzags  and  switchbacks 
he  whistled  for  the  summit. 

Here  a  new  difficulty  confronted  the  bold  builder 
of  railroads,  but  he  faced  it  unflinchingly.  The 
Mexicans  of  New  Mexico  were  not  ready  for  a 
railroad.  The  bull  team  and  the  wooden-wheeled  cart 
were  swift  enough  for  the  dark  people  of  that  Ter- 
ritory. The  rich  merchantb  of  Santa  F6,  who  thought 
nothing  of  giving  a  travelling  man  a  single  order  for 
one  hundred  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  goods,  were 
going  to  die  hard.  Besides,  thare  were  the  Indians 
standing  with  ready  rifles  (supplied  by  the  Govern- 
ment, to  be  used  on  Government  troops)  to  dispute  the 
pass.  I  ooking  away  to  the  West,  the  pathfinder  saw 
other  mountains,  as  rough  and  high  as  Raton,  but  hav- 
ing come  thus  far  he  would  not  turn  back.  Having 
surrounded  himself  with  an  escort  of  United  States 
troops,  the  dauntless  driver  pulled  out  again.  In  a  few 
moments  he  was  falling  down  the  Western  slope 
through  bits  of  green  forest,  over  wide  reaches  of 


THE  SEER  OF  THE  SANTA  Ft. 


89 


sunny  vales,  through  deep,  dark,  and  narrow  canons 
and  cool,  sunless  gorges.  He  was  running  now  for 
Glorieta,  and  the  very  fury  of  his  flight  seemed  to  awe 
the  Indians,  and  caused  the  sleepy  Mexicans  to  stare 
in  open-mouthed  amazement.  Now  he  began  going  up 
again,  swiftly  at  first,  then  slowly,  and  ever  more  slow- 
ly, till  at  last  he  crawled  to  the  crest  of  the  hill  and 
dropped  over  into  quaint  old  Santa  Fe. 

Here  the  applause  was  deafening,  for  the  audience 
guessed  that  the  goal  had  been  reached.  One  or  two 
men  sprang  upon  the  platform  of  the  car  to  shake  the 
orator's  hand.  It  had  been  an  interesting,  an  inspiring 
run,  and  they  all  felt  that  the  enthusiastic  driver  de- 
served a  little  rest  and  some  refreshments;  but  the 
colonel,  wiping  the  perspiration  from  his  brow,  took 
water  and  pulled  out  for  the  Pacific  coast. 

This  was  carrying  the  entertainment  rather  far,  but 
it  was  exiciting,  and  they  were  willing  to  be  entertained. 
Of  course,  none  took  him  seriously  now.  Some  con- 
sidered it  as  merely  a  part  of  the  show,  others  saw  in 
this  flight  across  the  continent  an  illustration  of  the 
reckless  daring  of  the  audacious  driver  of  a  night  ex- 
press— the  daring  that  comes  with  the  annihilation  of 
space  and  the  slaughter  of  time.  There  was  the  same 
steady  look  ahead,  the  same  set,  calm,  half-smiling 
face  that  one  sees  in  the  cab  as  the  shrieking  steed 
plunges  into  the  windowless  night,  without  knowing, 
apparently  without  caring,  what  a\'rait^  it  around  the 
curve.  It  is  an  expression  that  might  come  from 
dauntless  courage  or  abject  feur.  Not  a  few  of  the 
friends  of  the  pathfinder  saw  now  that  he  was  desper- 
ately, fearfully  in  earnest.    As  he  sped  on  toward  th*^ 


'm 


90 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


sunset  the  ever-changing  panorama  grew  wilder  with 
each  succeeding  twist  of  the  trail.  The  earth  seemed 
dryer  and  warmer,  the  natives  darker  and  more  daring, 
as  he  dashed  down  a  wild  arroyo  heneath  the  over- 
hanging homes  of  the  e borigines.  Over  the  verdure- 
less,  lifeless  lava  beds,  down  the  valley,  past  Albu- 
querque, he  gathered  a  momentum  that  carried  him  to 
the  crest  of  the  continental  divide,  more  than  seven 
thousand  feet  above  the  sea. 

But  still  beyond,  and  immediately  in  his  path,  yet 
another  range  lifts  its  hoary  head  to  the  heavens. 
Slowly  now  he  descends  the  rugged  mountains  until 
the  broad  valley  is  seen;  then,  releasing  the  brakes,  he 
passes  Winslow  with  the  speed  of  the  wind,  roars  along 
the  Caiion  Diablo,  lifting  like  a  soaring  eagle  after  a 
downward  pitch,  and  finally  rests  on  the  summit  at 
Flagstaff.  Here  he  pauses  for  a  moment  to  drink  in 
the  wild  grandeur  of  the  scene — of  mountain  terraces, 
broad^  plateaus,  deep  gorges,  wide  arid  plains  pied  with 
plots  of  green,  high  white  mountains  and  narrow  vales 
fenced  about  with  painted  buttes  and  wild,  fantastic, 
splintered,  spire-topped  cliffs;  and  below,  and  away 
beyond  it  all,  the  desolate  wastes  of  a  waveless  sea — 
the  Desert  of  Mojave.  Between  this  last  stop  and  the 
Pacific  lies  an  Egypt  unexplored.  Barelegged  women 
are  working  in  the  field,  and  men  in  shady  places  are 
patiently  drilling  holes  in  hard  flint  with  a  drill  driven 
by  a  stick  and  a  string.  High  on  the  hills  hang  the 
abandoned  homes  of  a  once  prosperous  people,  whose 
hearth  fires,  mayhap,  were  as  lighthouses  to  the  peo- 
ple in  the  Ark.  Across  the  path  of  the  pathfinder,  just 
at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  flows  a  mighty  river  whose 


THE  SEER  OP  THE  SANTA  Pfi. 


91 


waters  have  washed  the  feet  of  some  of  the  grand- 
est mountains  in  America.  On  the  way  from  the 
springs  in  the  Eockies  to  this  breathing  place  at  the 
edge  of  the  desert  they  have  dashed  through  some 
of  the  deepest,  wildest  gorges  that  the  prowling  ex- 
plorer has  yet  discovered.  Along  its  banks  live 
many  tribes  of  half-naked,  half-wild,  brown-skinned 
people,  who  squat  like  Orientals,  worship  strange 
gods,  and  eat  mutton  with  the  wool  on.  Across  the 
desert  in  the  broiling  sun  a  zeal-blird  penitente  is 
dragging  a  cross,  fcUowed  by  ether  zealots  who 
chant,  and  cheer,  and  flog  themselves  with  cactus 
canes. 

Glancing  briefly  at  these  things,  and  other  things 
equally  strange  and  interesting,  the  dauntless  driver 
pitches  over  and  begins  falling  down  toward  the  dead 
Sahara.  Leaving  the  "  Big  Water,"  he  enters  the 
dreary  desert,  where  mocking,  sapless  rivers  run,  where 
the  sun  pours  pitilessly  from  a  cloudless  sky,  and  the 
elusive  mirage  lures  men  to  death.  Still  on  and  away 
over  the  glittering  sand  the  driver  drives,  nor  stops  to 
eat,  or  drink,  or  sleep,  until  at  last  his  spent  steed 
stands  panting  at  the  Golden  Gate. 

Again  the  applause  was  loud  and  long,  and  ere  it 
had  ceased  the  speaker  held  up  a  stick  that  resembled 
a  roUed-up  window  shade.  Shaking  out  the  roll,  he 
showed  a  crude  map — a  painting  of  his  prophecy,  a 
drawing  of  his  dream.  There,  upon  this  bit  of  canvas, 
men  saw  the  Atchison,  Topeka  and  Santa  Fe  Bailroad 
running  from  the  edge  of  "civilization*'  across  the 
plains,  with  an  arm  up  to  Denver,  another  reaching 
down  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  and  scores  of  feeders,  and 


THE  STOBY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 

the  main  line  crossing  the  Rockies  and  ending  at  San 
Francisco. 

"  See,"  cridd  the  colonel,  pointing  to  his  picture, 
"  there  rolls  the  broad  Pacific,  and  on  its  breast  are  the 
ships  of  the  Santa  F6  riding  in  from  the  Orient! " 

This  climax  seemed  so  utterly  absurd  that  men 
shouted  and  laughed  like  schoolboys.  One  Tom  An- 
derson, a  tall  young  man,  fell  upon  the  grass,  kicked, 
and  cried,  "  Oh,  the  damned  old  fool  I "  But  the  dream 
has  almost  all  come  true. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

LIFE  IN  A   GRADING  CAMP. 

All  things  that  belong  to  a  contractor,  from  a 
mule  to  a  monkey  wrench,  including  ploughs,  wagons, 
and  scrapers,  are  thrown  in  a  lump,  in  the  talk  of  the 
track,  and  are  invariably  referred  to,  ensemble,  as  "  the 
outfit."    The  location  of  an  outfit  is  called  a  camp. 

When  McDuff  has  established  his  outfit  at  Ivan- 
hoe  and  begun  to  grade  the  roadway,  the  classic  name 
of  that  place  is  changed  at  once  to  McDuff's  camp,  and 
it  retains  that  name  until  the  road  is  completed  and  a 
time-table  printed;  then  it  becomes  Ivanhoe  again, 
but  it  is  never  the  same.  It  may  wash  up  and  quiet 
down,  but  the  hush  after  the  rattle  and  bang  of  the 
outfit  will  leave  it  as  dead  as  a  Western  town  that  has 
lost  the  county  seat. 

When  the  outfit  has  halted  and  strung  itself  out 
along  the  margin  of  a  little  stream,  the  camp  begins  at 
once  to  shape  itself.  There  are  no  managers  or  secre- 
taries connected  with  a  grading  outfit;  there  are  bosses 
and  timekeepers.  One  of  the  first  tents  to  go  up  is 
the  hotel  tent,  and  the  man  who  runs  it  is  the  board- 
ing boss.  He  is  usually  a  jolly,  fearless  man,  a  good 
hustler,  but  not  necessarily  addicted  to  real  manual 
toil.  His  wife  does  that.  From  four  in  the  morning 
8  08 


94 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


lentil  midnight  this  slave  of  the  camp  is  on  her  feet. 
To  be  sure,  there  are  men  cooks,  and  flunkies  and  dish- 
washers, but  the  boarding  boss  has  but  one  wife,  and 
she  must  oversee  everything.  She  must  see  that  noth- 
ing goes  to  the  pigs  until  all  the  boarders  have  refused 
it.  Her  tired  but  ever-smiling  face  repels  more  kicks 
than  a  State  militia  could  repel.  If  one  of  the  drivers 
is  kicked  by  a  mule,  she  bathes  his  hurt  with  horse 
liniment,  and  allows  the  yjounded  man  to  sit  in  the 
rocking-chair  in  the  eating  tent.  She  is  at  once  a 
mother  to  the  beardless  and  a  sister  of  charity  to  the 
bearded  men.  Her  private  tent  is  the  one  spot  re- 
spected at  all  times  by  the  rough  men  of  the  camp, 
whether  they  be  drunk  or  sober.  . 

After  theboarding  tent,  the  sleeping  tent  goes  up — 
a  great  canvas  under  which  a  hundred  men  may  sleep. 
In  lieu  of  this  they  ihay  use  a  number  of  smaller  tents. 
The  bunks  are  made  by  driving  stakes  in  the  ground 
to  take  the  place  of  bedposts,  and  instead  of  springs 
they  use  soft  pine  boards'.  The  hair  mattress  is  usually 
stuffed  with  straw.  But  it  is  a  glorious  bed.  After, 
eight  or  ten  hours  of  following  a  team,  dumping  over 
and  dumping  back,  a  man  can  sleep  on  a  pile  of  scrap 
in'  a  boiler  factory. 

If  the  water  be  good  and  the  food  untainted  by  a 
long  haul  or  hot  weather,  the  health  of  the  camp  will 
be  excellent.  There  is  no  camp  doctor.  Living  in  the 
open  air,  working  hard,  eating  and  sleeping  well,  the 
men  want  little  from  a  medicine  man.  The  boss  has  a 
medicine  chest  filled,  for  the  most  part,  with  medicated 
bandages,  done  up  in  rolls  and  pinned.  A  few  simple 
remedies  are  stored  in  the  neat  case,  but  usually  a  man 


LIFE  IN  A  GRADING  CAMP. 


95 


who  is  careless,  or  awkward  enough  to  get  hurt,  gets 
spring  water  an(!r  horse  liniment. 

When  the  sleeping  tents  are  up,  the  boss's  tent 
and  the  tent  for  the  timekeeper  are  pitched.  Down 
near  the  river  are  the  long  awnings  called  the  stables, 
and,  hard  by,  a  black,  dirty  tent  where  the  shoeing 
and  repairing  are  done.  If  the  weather  is  warm,  there 
may  be  no  covering  whatever  for  the  animals. 

When  the  camp  is  established,  the  various  bosses 
take  their  places  and  the  work  begins.  The  stable  boss 
assigns  men  to  the  teams.  He  may  have  a  hundred 
horses  and  mules,  but  he  knows  them  all  by  name. 
The  driver  and  harness  become  a  part  of  the  team  after 
the  first  day,  and  neither  is  ever  changed  unless  there 
is  good  reason  for  doing  so.  Each  man  is  personally 
responsible  to  the  stable  boss  for  the  good  care 
of  his  team.  The  stable  boss  is  responsible  to 
the  boss,  who  is  expected,  when  the  job  is  done, 
to  turn  the  outfit  over  to  the  contractor  as  good, 
barring  wear  and  tear,  as  when  he  took  it.  If  a  man 
wilfully  destroys  property  he  is  charged  with  it,  and, 
as  a  rule,  there  is  no  appeal  from  the  findings  of  the 
boss.  In  fact,  the  labourers  rarely  ever  know  the  con- 
tractors except  by  name.  In  spite  of  the  absolute  em- 
pire of  the  boss,  there  is  very  little  that  borders  on 
tyranny.  The  average  grader  can  taka  care  of  himself 
in  a  rough-and-tumble  fight,  and  the  boss  will  not  re- 
sort to  pick  handles,  as  sea  captains  do  to  marline 
spikes,  according  to  sea  stories.  To  be  sure,  there  are 
exceptions  in  men  and  circumstances.  There  have  been 
times  when  the  "Jerries  "  and  the  "  Dagos  "  have  got 
mixed,  when  the  boss  and  his  assistants  have  been 


96 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


obliged  to  face  the  rioters  and  quiet  them  with  a 
formidable  display  of  firearms;  but  if  there  are  no 
"  foreigners,"  but  just  Irish  and  ordinary  labourers, 
the  boss  rules  his  subjects  with  comparative  ease. 

One  of  the  most  important  bosses  is  the  walking 
boss.  He  is  to  the  contractor  what  the  camp  slave  is  to 
her  lord,  the  boarding  boss.  He  has  his  eye  con- 
stantly upon  the  men.  In  ferocity  he  approaches 
nearer  to  the  ideal  sea  captain  than  any  man  on  the 
work.  What  the  camp  slave  accomplishes  with  sym- 
pathy and  horse  liniment  he  brings  about  by  the  use 
of  vigorous  profanity  and  time  checks.  They  are  both 
respected.  If  a  man  is  caught  soldiering,  he  is  jacked 
up;  the  next  time  he  is  jacked  up  a  little  higher;  and 
with  the  third  offence  the  walking  boss  calls  the  time- 
keeper, whom  he  orders  to  give  the  man  his  time, 
adding,  for  the  enlightenment  of  the  others,  that  this 
is  not  a  Salvation  Army,  but  a  grading  outfit.  As  a 
parting  shot  to  the  discharged  man,  he  advises  him  to 
buy  a  drum  if  he  wants  to  be  a  soldier. 

This  little  incident  has  a  good  effect.  A  hundred 
whips  crack,  and  at  the  end  of  an  hour  each  of  the  one 
hundred  teams  has  brought  in  an  extra  scraper  of  dirt. 
At  twenty  cents,  five  scrapers  to  the  yard,  this  means, 
for  a  hundred  scrapers,  five  dollars;  and  that  is  where 
the  skill  of  the  walking  boss  comes  in,  and  it  counts. 

The  younger  men  are  usually  selected  as  drivers, 
the  older  for  ploughing  and  filling,  and  the  Irish  for 
shovellers.  A  man  with  a  good  eye  and  an  unmistak- 
able accent  is  selected  for  the  important  post  of  dump- 
ing boss.  He  stands  on  the  fill  and  indicates  with  his 
shovel  where  he  wants  the  dirt  dumped.     Between 


LIFE  IN  A  GRADING  CAMP. 


»T 


teams  he  levels  the  dirt,  and  under  his  constant  earo 
the  grade  grows  with  just  the  i)roper  pitch,  until  the 
top  is  levelled  off  ready  for  the  cross-ties. 

Promptly  at  noon  the  big  watch  of  the  walking 
boss  snaps  and  he  calls  time.  Every  man  in  the  outfit 
hears  him.  The  mules  hear,  and  if  the  scraper  is  ready 
to  dump,  the  team  will  stop  instantly  and  let  it  fall 
back.  Five  minutes  later  the  animals  are  cooling  their 
feet  and  quenching  their  thirst  in  the  running  brook. 
When  the  mules  have  been  fed  the  men  take  the  path 
— it  matters  not  what  path,  for  all  the  camp  trails  lead 
to  the  boarding  tent. 

Seated  upon  low  benches  that  run  beside  the  long 
tables,  the  men  fall  to,  and  begin  to  appease  fin  appe- 
tite that  makes  the  coarsest  fare  taste  deliciou«ly.  The 
meal  is  enlivened  by  choice  bits  of  camp  slang,  which 
may  be  dignified  by  a  word  now  and  then  from  one  of 
the  bosses. 

Some  wag  will  inquire  of  the  man  who  has  received 
his  time  whether  he  intends  to  flog  a  drum  or  toy  with 
a  tambourine,  but  in  the  laugh  that  follows  the  bosses 
will  not  join.  The  boarding  boss,  from  his  little  pine 
desk  in  the  corner  of  the  tent,  will  glaace  along  the 
line  of  tousled  heads  to  see  who  has  been  hounced,  but 
it  gives  him  no  trouble.  He  knows  that  the  time- 
keeper has  deducted  the  man's  board,  including  this 
meal,  and  that  he  will  get  the  money. 

Fifteen  minutes  after  the  beginning  of  the  meal 
the  men  begin  to  push  back  their  seats.  In  twenty 
minutes  they  are  all  out,  and  the  boss,  sipping  his 
coffee,  is  joined  by  the  slave  of  the  camp,  and  possibly 
by  the  boarding  boss.     In  the  big  sleeping  tent  the 


08 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


men  laugli  and  talk  and  smoke.  Some  are  sewing  on 
buttons,  a  few  are  reading,  and  all  are  resting. 

At  one  o'clock  the  shrill  voice  of  the  walking  boss 
is  heard,  and  the  men  go  back  to  work  again  almost  as 
cheerfully  as  th(}y  "  knocked  off."  For  the  next  hour 
the  walking  boss;  is  extremely  busy.  The  men  and  the 
mules  are  lazy  alter  the  hearty  meal,  and  it  takes  a  vast 
amount  of  profi^nity  to  get  them  stepping  again. 

The  sun  is  ttill  high  in  the  heavens  when  the  boss 
calls  time  again,  and  the  men  go  singing  down  to  the 
stream.  The  evening  meal  is  taken  with  more  leisure, 
and  then  they  saunter  out.  If  the  camp  happens  to 
be  near  a  town,  nearly  every  one  goes  in  to  spend  the 
evening,  some  odd  change,  and  often  a  good  part  of 
the  night.  If  the  contract  is  a  big  one  and  far  from 
a  town,  there  may  be  a  "  company  store,"  stocked  with 
overalls,  gloves,  hats,  flat  tobacco,  and  red  shirts.  Here 
any  man  may  get  credit  if  he  asks  it,  for  the  bill  will 
be  ia^en  out  of  his  time  before  he  is  paid.  If  the  con- 
tractors and  bosses  could  have  their  way  the  outfit 
would  be  kept  in  the  country  always,  but  that  can  not 
be;  and  as  the  camp  is  moved  nearer  a  Western  town 
the  troubles  of  tne  bosses  increase  in  proportion  to  the 
increase  of  the  revenue  of  the  shops  and  saloons  of  the 
place  they  approach.  The  day  following  pay  day  is 
usually  devoted  to  shoeing  idle  horses,  unless  the 
smith  gets  drunk,  and  it  is  usually  a  week  before  the 
teams  are  all  out  again.  If  a  man  is  discharged,  the 
chances  are  two  to  one  that  his  successor  will  be  no 
better,  so  the  bosses  content  themselves  with  relieving 
their  minds  after  their  own  fashion,  and  put  the  man 
to  work  again.    The  slowest,  quietest  town  in  the  West 


LIFE  IN  A  GRADING  CAMP. 


99 


quickens  at  the  approach  of  a  big  outfit.  Every  day 
now  faces  appear  upon  the  streets.  Empty  houses 
are  leased,  new  houses  and  tents  spring  "p  everywhere. 
All  sorts  of  people  come  to  pick  up  a  living,  directly 
or  indirectly,  from  the  sweat  of  the  graders.  Drink- 
ing saloons  and  gambling  houses  flare  out  ci.  'Ve  main 
streets,  while  other  sinks  of  iniquity  fill  the  Ijyways. 
Here  the  xnen  who  had  been  well  and  happy  at  Mc- 
DufT's  Camp  stumble  after  the  teams,  half  asleep,  for 
the  nights  that  should  be  given  to  sleep  are  spent  in 
riotous  living. 

At  Newton,  Kan.,  the  Santa  F6  crossed  the  cattle 
trail  that  came  up  from  Texas.  Here  the  iron  trail 
makers  and  the  heterogeneous  herd  that  followed 
them  flowed  into  the  stream  of  cowboys  that  swept  up 
from  the  Southwest,  and  there  was  trouble.  The 
armed  retainers  of  the  cattle  barons  of  the  Panhandle 
had  known  no  law  on  the  wide  plains,  and  refused  to 
be  arrested  or  interfered  with  at  all.  The  steel-nerved, 
cold-faced,  conscienceless  gambler  took  the  earnings  of 
the  cowboys  and  the  grade  maker  with  commendable 
impartiality.  The  cattle  drives  to  Aballne  had  already 
given  the  place  a  name,  and  when  the  graders  and  their 
followers  flowed  in  upon  Newton,  it  took  rank  at  once 
as  the  toughest  community  under  the  sun.  Jim  Steel, 
one  of  the  gifted  historians  of  Kansas,  says: 

"  They  counted  that  day  lost  whose  low  descending  sun 
Saw  no  man  killed  or  other  mischief  done." 

Newton,  in  1872,  was  taken  by  untravelled  people 
of  the  East  as  a  typical  town  of  the  West,  and  the 
reputacion  of  the  place  frightened  timid  investors,  for 


r 


100 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


it  seemed  like  burning  money  to  put  it  into  an  enter- 
prise in  so  lawless  a  community.  They  could  not 
know,  in  their  quiet  homes  there  on  the  Atlantic,  that 
nearly  all  the  people  who  were  being  killed  off  at  the 
front  had  been  itching  for  it  for  years — that  the  place 
was  better  after  each  funeral.  No  man  could  say  of  a 
surety  then  that  when  the  town  had  boiled  down  it 
would  become  one  of  the  cool,  quiet,  resting  places 
of  the  plains,  and  that  a  day  would  dawn  when  there 
would  be  no  drinking  and  no  drunkards  in  all  this 
vast  empire  called  Kansas.  Indeed,  there  was  little  to 
warrant  such  a  prediction  in  1872,  for  there  was  no 
night  in  Newton  then.  It  was  just  a  change  of  shift 
from  sunlight  to  lamplight,  and  the  rattle  and  riot  of 
the  place  went  on. 

One  of  the  first  permanent  improvements  made 
by  the  thoughtful  citizens  of  the  place  was  the  estab- 
lishment of  a  public  graveyard.  It  began  ten  rods 
north  of  the  proposed  railroad,  and  was  bounded  on  the 
aast  by  the  Missouri  and  on  the  west  by  the  Eocky 
Mountains.  There  was  no  charge  at  first  for  places, 
and  it  began  to  fill  up  rapidly.  In  one  month  twenty- 
eight  men  were  buried  there. 

To-night  the  cowboys  and  the  graders  might  be 
against  the  gamblers,  to-morrow  night  might  find  the 
graders  and  the  gamblers  leagued  together.  And  then 
there  were  countless  insignificant,  single-handed  fights, 
in  which  only  one  or  two  men  were  killed.  Viewing 
the  place  from  afar,  one  would  say  that  a  man's  life 
was  not  worth  a  straw  there,  and  yet  there  is  one  man, 
at  least,  who  saw  it  all.  The  land  commissioner  of  the 
Santa  F6  passed  through  all  these  wild  towns  when 


LIFE  IN  A  GRADING  CAMP. 


101 


they  were  in  the  making,  including  Dodge  City,  and 
he  declares  that  he  never  had  an  unkind,  not  even  an 
unpleasant,  word  from  these  hard  men  of  the  frontier. 

The  bitterness  and  jealousy  between  the  gamblers 
and  the  cowboys  grew  at  Newton  until  war  was  raging 
almosi  unbroken  by  sleep,  day  and  night,  between  the 
two  factions.  A  gambler  who  had  been  widely  adver- 
tised by  the  Panhandlers  as  the  leading  candidate  for 
ths  next  funeral  concluded  to  go  to  the  chief  ren- 
dezvous of  the  cowboys  and  have  it  out.  As  he  entered 
the  place,  a  half  dozen  men  saw  him  and  were  ready  to 
begin  upon  the  slightest  provocation. 

"All  set!"  cried  the  gambler,  throwing  his  back 
against  the  wall  and  facing  a  dozen  or  more  men  who 
surrounded  a  faro  table.  x\s  his  back  went  tc  the  wall 
his  hands  came  up,  each  holding  a  self-acting  revolver. 
The  cowboys,  every  one,  reached  for  their  hip  pockets. 
Some  of  them  never  got  far  enough  to  add  anything 
to  the  awful  uproar,  for  the  gambler  was  pouring  out 
two  streams  of  cold  lead.  In  five  or  six  seconds  the 
lamps  had  gone  out,  so  had  the  people,  and  the  place 
that  had  been  a  living  hell  was  perfectly  quiet. 

Oulside,  men  were  trampinp;  the  board  walks.  Far 
away  the  sound  of  men  running  could  be  heard;  these 
were  the  graders  who  had  escaped  when  the  curtain 
went  up.  The  bartender,  who  had  taken  refuge  among 
his  bottles  behind  the  bar,  rose  in  his  place,  and  after 
listening  for  a  moment  broke  the  silence. 

"Well!" 

"  Well!  "  said  a  voice  down  in  the  darkness;  "  strike 
a  lite  an'  le's  count  noses." 

The  bartender  made  a  light  and  looked  into  the 


102 


THE  STORY  OF  THF  RAILROAD. 


cold  smiling  face  of  the  gambler,  still  standing  with  his 
back  to  the  wall,  holding  his  empty  smoking  guns. 
Upon  the  floor  eight  men  lay  dead.  And  the  most  re- 
markable thing  about  it  all,  as  Colonel  Johnson  ex- 
pressed it,  was  that  they  were  all  dead. 


CHAPTER  X. 


PEOPLING  THE   GREAT  AMERICAN  DESERT. 


Three  million  acres  of  land!  That's  what  the 
Government  gave  to  the  Atchison,  Topeka  and  Santa 
Fe  Railroad  Company  to  aid  in  building  a  line  along 
the  old  Santa  Fe  trail  from  the  Missouri  River  to  the 
eastern  boundary  of  Colorado.  That  was  a  vast  em- 
pire to  be  opened  up  at  once  and  offered  for  sale  to 
home  seekers  on  easy  terms,  and  yet  it  was  only  a  gar- 
den spot — a  mere  fraction  of  the  sunflower  State. 

According  to  Andrea's  History  of  Kansas,  there 
could  not  have  been  five  thousand  people  along  the  en- 
tire line  of  the  proposed  road  at  the  time  of  the  transfer 
of  the  grant.  By  the  time  the  road  was  completed,  in 
1873,  there  were  forty  thousand.  In  the  succeeding 
seven  years  the  number  grew  to  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  thousand,  and  at  the  end  of  the  first 
decade,  one  hundred  and  forty  thousand  people  had 
come  to  make  homes  betwe^^n  Topeka  and  the  State 
line. 

One  of  the  big  problems  with  which  the  early  man- 
agers of  the  new  road  had  to  deal  was  how  to  handle 
this  vast  tract  of  land,  to  advertise  it,  and  to  place  it 
upon  the  market.  It  could  not  be  thrown  into  a 
sample  case  and  carried  East,  or  to  Europe.    Prospec- 

103 


104 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


tive  purchasers  had  to  be  brought  to  the  Territory,  in 
order  that  they  might  see  the  land. 

In  18T0  a  land  department  was  estabLshed,  with 
Colonel  A.  S.  Johnson  as  chief  commissioner.  Colonel 
Johnson  had  been  in  the  employ  of  the  Govcirnment, 
and  was  well  equipped  for  the  work  before  him.  The 
first  three  years  h-B  spent  "  in  the  field,"  surveying  and 
laying  out  the  land.  The  grant  comprised  alternate 
sections  in  a  ten-mile  strip  on  each  side  of  the  main 
line  of  the  road  through  Kansas.  Wherever  a  section 
had  been  pre-empted  by  a  settler  the  company  was 
indemnified  by  the  right  ta  take  land  in  the  second 
ten-mile  strip  on  each  side  of  the  road.  Many  condi- 
tions were  imposed  by  the  Government  as  to  the  price, 
method  of  selling,  etc.,  and  the  lands  were  all  taxable. 
This  was  a  good  thing  for  Kansas.  In  a  few  years  these 
ten-mile  strips  were  lined  with  good  school  buildings 
ar.d  substantial  courthouses.  There  are  many  in- 
stances where  one  section  of  land  was  taxed  to  build 
three  schoolhouses.  This  was  accomplished  by  chang- 
ing school  districts  so  as  to  bring  the  given  section 
under  the  necessity  of  contributing  to  the  building 
of  the  three  separate  houses.  As  has  already  been 
stated,  Keno  County  received  for  many  years  a  quar- 
ter of  a  million  dollars  annually  in  taxes  from  the 
land  gran^  There  was  a  time  when  Colonel  Johnson 
paid  nine  tenths  of  the  taxes  collected  at  Dodge  City, 
meeting  the  county  commissioners  in  a  saloon  kept  by 
the  chairman  of  the  board.  At  times  they  met  at  the 
houses  of  other  commissioners,  but  the  colonel  does 
not  remember  having  attended  a  single  meeting  for 
the  first  few  years  that  was  not  held  in  somebody's 


PEOPLINa  THE  GREAT  AMERICAN  DESERT.  105 

saloon.  These  were  feverish  sessions,  held  in  holes 
full  of  bad  air,  tobacco  smoke,  and  profanity,  and 
sometimes  there  were  loud  explosions  that  put  out  the 
lamps,  and  then  there  would  be  darkness,  disturbed 
only  by  strange  oaths  and  the  smell  of  burned  powder. 
If  the  land  commissioner  happened  to  be  making  a 
speech,  protesting  in  the  name  of  his  company  against 
the  findings  of  the  assessor,  the  mixed  audience  would 
cheer  him  lustily,  until,  in  self-defence,  he  ordered 
the  liquor  man  to  give  them  liquor.  Ten  minutes  later 
they  might  be  cheering  one  of  the  county  commis- 
sioners and  calling  the  colonel  a  monopolist,  and  they 
would  keep  it  up  until  the  empty  glasses  lined  up 
along  the  top  of  the  bar. 

When  t]ie  land  had  all  been  surveyed  and  properly 
piovted,  the  land  department  set  about  devising  ways 
and  means  by  which  the  real  estate  could  be  adver- 
tised. After  months  of  careful  investigation,  it  made 
up  a  list  of  between  three  hundred  and  four  hun- 
dred leading  newspapers,  and  invited  the  chief  editor 
of  each  to  "  come  to  Kansas."  The  invitation  stated 
thai  upon  acceptance  the  necessary  traiisportation,  in- 
cluding Pullman  passes,  would  be  mailed  to  the  editor. 
In  this  way  the  land  department  gathered  at  Atchison, 
upon  the  date  fixed,  over  three  hundred  of  the  leading 
editors  and  writers  of  the  country.  A  special  train 
was  provided,  with  dining  and  sleeping  cars,  and  the 
joyous  company  pulled  out  for  the  West.  At  nearly 
every  town  where  the  train  stopped  the  villagers  had  a 
banque^:  spread  for  the  visitors.  They  had  booths  and 
floats  upon  which  they  displayed  the  wonderful  prod- 
ucts of  a  two-  or  three-vear-old  farm.    The  result  of 


106 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


this  excursion  was  about  a  thousand  columns  of  read- 
ing matter  that  money  could  not  have  bought.  The 
effect  was  soon  felt  in  the  passenger  department,  in 
the  immediate  increase  of  business  from  various  parts 
of  the  country  at  half  fare.  If  a  home  seeker  bought 
land,  his  fare  was  refunded.  Thousands  came,  saw, 
and  were  conquered.  Other  thousands  came  because 
it  was  cheap  and  they  wanted  to  see  the  country.  The 
drought  of  1860  had  given  Kansas  a  hard  name,  and 
it  took  her  a  few  years  to  get  back  to  her  former  stand- 
ing. She  was  like  a  harrow  left  wrong  side  up.  She 
seems  to  have  caught  a  little  of  everything  that  blew 
by — John  Brown,  border  ruffians,  drought,  guerrillas, 
and  grasshoppers.  And  she  just  kept  quiet  ana 
caught  populism  and  prohibition,  and  finally  a  warm 
south  wind  wimpled  her  fields  of  golden  grain,  a  great 
wave  of  prosperity  engulfed  her,  and  then  she  turned 
to  and  went  to  work. 

For  the  first  few  years  the  land  department  was 
a  heavy  drain  upon  the  revenue  of  the  road.  Three 
years  with  a  large  force  of  men  surveying,  often  under 
paid  guards,  and  sometimes  protected  by  a  military 
escort,  was  no  small  item  of  expense.  Scarcely  a  day 
passed  that  they  did  not  catch  glimpses  of  lone  In- 
dians watching  them  from  the  low  ridges.  Far  off  on 
the  cross  trails  they  could  see  long  lines  of  savages 
following  each  other  over  the  edge  of  the  horizon. 

Whenever  they  came  to  a  section  that  had  been  pre- 
empted they  were  obliged  to  travel  ten  miles  to  the 
north  or  south  before  they  could  begin  surveying,  and 
another  ten  to  complete  the  work.  All  this,  however, 
was  comparatively  inexpensive,  but  when  the  land  de- 


PEOPLING  THE  GREAT  AMERICAN  DESIERT.  107 


partment  opened  offices  with  a  large  force  of  clerks, 
and  five  hundred  "  foreign  agents  "  scattered  over  the 
United  States  and  Europe,  the  operating  department 
had  a  heavy  load  to  carry.  The  expenses  of  the  land 
office  reached  the  enormous  sum  of  one  hundred  thou- 
sand dollars  a  year.  In  time  the  land  began  to  sell,  but 
very  little  was  sold  for  cash.  There  were  various  forms 
of  agreement  giving  the  purchaser  two,  three,  six, 
seven,  and  eleven  years  in  which  to  make  final  pay- 
ment. Agents  had  to  have  a  commission,  of  course, 
out  of  the  first  cash  payment.  A  foreign  agent,  as 
those  outside  the  State  were  called,  would  bring  a 
party  of  home  seekers  and  drop  them  off  at  a  station, 
where  they  became  the  prey  of  the  local  agent.  At  one 
station  there  might  be  a  community  of  Swedes,  at  an- 
other of  Englishmen,  and  in  another  locality,  where  the 
soil  was  sandy,  they  would  plant  Irishmen.  So  the 
foreign  agent  would  wire  that  he  was  coming  with  so 
many  Danes,  or  Yankees,  or  whatever  he  happened  to 
have,  and  the  land  department  would  say  where  they 
should  be  unloaded.  It  was  a  rare  thing  that  a  party, 
ever  came  and  went  away  without  some  purchase  of 
land,  for  the  country  was  very  attraciive  in  its  virgin 
beauty.  There  was  great  jealousy,  too,  between  the 
local  agents.  Colonel  Johnson  tells  one  story  that  illus- 
trates this,  and  at  the  same  time  gives  an  idea  of 
the  airy  freedom  of  a  playful  frontier  town. 

A  party  of  ten  prospective  purchasers  had  dropped 
off  at  one  of  the  stations  well  out,  and  the  local  agent 
had  been  delighted  with  the  almost  sure  signs  of  a 
sale.  One  man,  however,  a  doctor  by  profession,  in- 
sisted upon  seeing  Dodge  City  before  buying,  for  if 


108 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


they  bought  land  afterward,  the  excursion  would  be 
free.  At  midnight  the  doctor  got  his  nine  friends 
aboard  a  freight  train  and  landed  them  at  Dodge  just 
before  dawn,  and  in  time  to  witness  a  performance  in 
Kelly's  saloon,  in  the  course  of  which  a  prominent 
citizen  removed  with  two  shots  the  high  heels  from 
the  boots  of  a  tenderfoot. 

When  the  agent  learned  that  his  people  had  been 
spirited  away  he  wired  this  same  Kelly  who  kept 
the  saloon:  "  Ten  homa  seekers  on  local;  one  doctor 
with  high  hat — put  him  in  Jail."  Kelly  pondered 
over  the  message,  and  then  made  the  doctor's  acquaint- 
ance. He  soon  learned  that  the  doctor  was  the  em- 
peror, and  that  the  balance  had  to  do  as  he  said.  He 
learned  incidentally  from  one  of  the  party  who  had 
overheard  this  that  the  doctor  was  "a  durned  liar," 
and  that  the  whole  company  would  be  delighted  to 
lose  him.  Kelly,  who  lived  like  an  Irish  lord,  invited 
the  doctor  to  gallop  with  him  after  the  hounds  when 
the  sun  had  touched  the  sand  hills,  and  the  doctor 
accepted. 

'  In  a  little  while  they  got  an  antelope  up,  and  the 
magnificent  greyhounds  that  Kelly  kept  soon  dragged 
it  down,  whereupon  the  two.  sportsmen  started  for 
home.  Suddenly,  from  behind  a  little  knoll,  a  band  of 
bad  Indians  dashed  down  upon  the  horsemen,  and 
Kelly,  to  the  doctor's  amazement,  put  spurs  to  his 
horse  and  headed  for  home.  The  doctor  followed,  but 
his  horse,  which  seemed  to  have  been  selected  for  its 
gentleness  and  utter  indifference  to  firearms,  fell  rap- 
idly to  the  rear.  Kelly's  cayuse  ran  away  from  the 
doctor  as  the  California  Limited  leaves  a  way  freight. 


PEOPLING  THE  GREAT  AMERICAN  DESERT.  109 


The  bullets  fairly  rained  around  the  flying  horsemen, 
whizzing  and  singing  in  the  doctor's  ears.  Finally  a 
stray  shot  perforated  the  medicine  man's  high  hat, 
and  he  howled  lustily  for  Kelly  to  come  back,  for  he 
dreaded  to  be  alone  at  the  end.  To  be  sure,  the 
Indians  would  not  follow  them  into  the  town,  but  as 
the  bareheaded  doctor  galloped  back  to  the  station 
another  danger  confronted  him.  He  was  promptly 
arrested  by  a  man  who  called  himself  "  the  city  mar- 
shal," and  locked  up  for  carrying  concealed  weapons. 

"  But  they  all  do  it,"  protested  the  doctor.  "  Every 
man  in  town's  got  a  revolver  or  two  hangin'  on  him." 

"  Yes,''  said  the  marshal,  "  but  that's  different. 
They  live  here,  an'  they  know  what  sich  things  is  fur. 
B'sides,  they  ain't  concealed."  And  then  the  key 
clicked,  and  the  unhai)pv  doctor  was  left  alone  to  re- 
flect upon  the  native  cussi  Iness  of  a  Kansas  town. 

While  these  things  were  happening  at  Dodge,  the 
agent  had  arrived,  rounded  up  his  party,  carried  them 
back,  and  fitted  them  all  out  with  a  future  place  of 
residence.  In  the  afternoon  Kelly  received  another 
brief  message  in  an  envelope  marked  "  K.  R.  B." 

"  Let  him  out,"  was  all  it  said,  for  the  agent  knew 
Kelly,  and  knew  that  somehow,  somewhere,  he  had  the 
doctor  in  safe  keeping. 

Kelly  went  beating  upon  the  prison  door  and  de- 
manding to  be  admitted;  and  when  an  officer  came  and 
opened  the  jail,  he  rushed  in  and  fell  upon  the  doctor's 
neck  and  said  in  a  loud  voice  that  his  friend  should  be 
released.  And  it  was  so  ordered,  for  Kelly,  before  the 
coming  of  Bat  Masterson,  had  the  ordering  of  things  at 
Dodge  City.  In  fact,  it  was  this  same  Kelly  who  had 
9 


110 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


ordered  the  doctor's  arrest,  at  the  same  time  ordering 
the  Indians,  who  were  only  happy,  hilarious,  hand- 
painted  cowboys,  and  it  all  came  under  the  general  head 
of  "  having  fun  with  a  tenderfoot." 

Colonel  Johnson  told  many  interesting  stories  as  we 
travelled  eastward  over  the  plains  one  day,  but  not 
until  he  had  exacted  a  promise  that  no  reference  should 
be  made  in  this  book  to  the  fact  that  he  happened  to 
be  the  first  white  child  born  in  Kansas.  Marking  the 
progress  that  men  have  made  there,  and  looking  into 
his  face,  that  refuses  to  grow  old,  one  finds  it  easy  to 
refrain  from  making  the  statement.  It  argues  well 
for  the  West,  however,  that  this  man's  life  has  all  been 
passed  there.  His  father  was  one  of  the  very  first  mis- 
sionaries sent  out  from  St.  liouis  for  the  enlighten- 
ment and  amusement  of  the  savages,  and  they  mur- 
dered him  in  real  Indian  fashion.  It  is  a  remarkable 
fact  that  those  who  have  suffered  much  at  the  hands 
of  the  Indians  are  usually  least  bitter  against  that 
rapidly  fading  race.  All  his  life,  until  they  were 
driven  away,  this  "white  child"  lived  with  the  red 
men  and  suffered  greatly  at  their  hands,  and  yet  one 
hears  no  word  of  complaint  from  him.  Perhaps  he  is 
able  to  see,  as  few  men  do,  the  pathos  that  runs 
through  the  story  of  the  Indian. 

The  ex-land  commissioner  vouches  for  the  follow- 
ing story,  which  shows  the  Indian  mode  of  reasoning: 

A  man,  who  fancied  that  he  had  a  call,  went  into  the 
West  to  preach  the  Gospel.  He  went  so  far  that  the 
Indians  with  whom  he  finally  stopped  marvelled  that 
any  white  man  could  penetrate  the  Ked  Lands  so  far 
and  keep  his  hat  on.    The  old  chief  was  interested  at 


PEOPLING  THE  GREAT  AMERICAN  DESERT,  m 

once,  and  finally  called  his  people  together  to  hear  the 
preacher  preach.  The  stranger  began  with  a  simple 
narrative  of  the  creation  of  the  world,  and  it  went 
so  well  that  the  old  chief  gave  him  his  hand,  saying: 
"  White  man,  you're  all  right.  That's  a  good  story,  and 
no  doubt  a  true  one,  for  if  somebody  hadn't  taken  the 
trouble  and  gone  to  work  on  the  world  we'd  have  no 
place  to  stand  on.  That's  what  I  tell  my  people.  I 
say,  *  Squaws  work;  men  fight,  and  do  something.' " 

The  newcomer  was  so  elated  that  he  persuaded  the 
old  chief  to  call  another  meeting,  and  upon  the  second 
occasion  he  told  the  story  of  Job,  his  patience  and 
af&iction,  and  notwithstanding  the  prosy,  not  to  say 
unattractive,  nature  of  the  narrative,  it  went  fairly  well, 
and  the  white  man  asked  for  another  meeting.  The 
old  chief  protested.  It  was  summer — the  busy  season. 
A  lot  of  Indians  of  other  tribes,  a  few  soldiers,  and 
some  cowboys  needed  killing,  and  there  were  the  cara- 
vans on  the  trail  to  look  after.  Finally,  however,  the 
chief  yielded,  and  then  the  white  man  overdid  the 
business.  He  told  a  story  that  has  puzzled  many  a  pale 
face.  It  was  the  story  of  Jonah  and  the  whale.  The 
Indians  listened  respectfully,  though  somewhat  im- 
patiently, and  when  the  story  was  finished  many  of 
the  war  chiefs  got  up,  grunted,  and  walked  out.  The 
old  chief  thought  a  moment,  then,  springing  to  his 
feet,  said:  "  White  man,  that's  a  lie,  and  you're  a  liar. 
Now  go." 

Probably  the  best  true  boom  story  of  the  West  is 
told  of  a  man  and  a  corner  lot  at  Garden  City. 

To  be  sure,  all  the  people  who  came  to  Kansas  have 
not  grown  rich.     Many  have  not   prospered  at  all. 


112 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


Some  have  tried  hard  and  failed,  others  have  failed 
without  trying.    Some  men  would  fail  in  a  bank  vault. 

One  of  the  best  land  agents  on  the  line  was  located 
at  Garden  City.  3Iany  of  these  agents  made  money  in 
the  twenty  years  during  which  Colonel  Johnson  was 
surveying  and  soiling  the  big  land  grant.  This  Gar- 
den City  man  had  prospered  by  reason  of  his  connec- 
tion with  the  land  department,  and  was  anxious  to 
show  his  appreciation  of  the  commissioner's  friend- 
ship. But  the  colonel  refused  all  advances;  it  was  all 
business  and  no  sentiment  with  him.  The  figent  had 
made  sales  and  had  received  the  usual  commission,  and 
that,  he  thought,  ought  to  end  the  matter,  but  the 
agent  was  persistent.  day,  when  the  land  com- 

missioner and  the  ageni  were  driving  out  to  look  at  a 
section  of  land,  the  agent  left  the  road  at  the  edge  of 
the  town  and  began  driving  round  and  round  in  the 
high  grass.  He  was  looking,  or,  rather,  feeling  for  a 
stake.  When  he  had  found  it  he  told  his  friend  that 
that  stake  marked  a  valuable  corner  in  his  addition  to 
Garden  City,  and  that  he  was  going  to  give  Mrs.  John- 
son a  couple  of  lots. 

"  You'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  said  the  colonel, 
"  unless  you  pay  for  recording  the  deed,  for  the  lots  are 
not  worth  it." 

The  agent  thought  they  were,  and  was  more  than 
willing  to  pay  for  the  privilege  of  giving  them  away. 

"Mrs.  Johnson  wants  an  Indian  shawl,"  said  the 
colonel,  as  the  two  men  drove  past  the  corner  lots  that 
were  sleeping  in  the  tall  grass  as  they  returned  to  the 
station,  "and  when  they  bring  enough  for  that  you 
can  sell  them." 


PEOPLING  THE  GREAT  AMERICAN  DESERT.  113 


"  Why,  you  can  go  out  and  rope  an  Injin  and  get 
her  a  Hhawl  any  day/'  said  the  agent. 

"  Ah,  but  she  wants  a  shawl  made  in  India;  they 
cost  a  thousand  dollars." 

"  When's  she  going?  " 

"  She  goes  to  Europe  next  April." 

"  All  right,"  said  the  agent;  "  we'll  see  what  we 
can  do." 

In  a  few  months  he  saw  the  colonel  and  said  he  liad 
been  offered  two  hundred  dollars  for  the  lots.  At 
Christmas  time  he  wrote  that  they  were  worth  four, 
meaning,  of  course,  that  he  could  get  four  hundred 
f  r  them.  He  was  a  real-estate  man  by  nature,  instinct, 
and  training,  and  so  spoke  the  language. 

In  March  he  wrote  to  ask  upon  what  day  Mrs. 
Johnson  would  sail.  The  colonel  gave  him  the  date, 
and  received  by  return  mail  a  melancholy  letter  to  the 
effect  that  six  hundred  dollars  was  the  very  best  he 
could  do,  and  asked  for  orders. 

"  Hold  them,"  wrote  the  colonel.  "  I'm  going  over 
in  July  to  bring  her  back,  and  I'll  take  the  money  to 
her." 

Well,  did  you  go?  "  asked  an  eager  listener. 
Yes,"  said  the  colonel,  "  and  I  took  a  thousand 
dollars,  which  was  the  price  paid  for  the  corner  lots." 

As  the  train  pulled  out  we  could  see  the  lots,  but 
the  waving  grass  was  gone.  They  have  been  fenced, 
and  the  field  in  which  they  lie  is  worth  a  hundred  dol- 
lars an  acre. 

The  largest  colony  ever  established  by  the  land 
department  was  near  Newton,  in  1874.  Something 
over  a  century  ago  a  number  of  Mennonites  from  Ger- 


t< 


it 


114 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


many  settled  on  the  Molatchna,  in  Bussia.  They  are 
called  Mepronites  after  Mennon  Simons,  of  Friesland, 
their  founder.  They  believe  that  the  New  Testament 
is  the  only  rule  of  faith,  that  there  is  no  original  sin, 
that  infants  should  not  be  baptized,  and  that  Christians 
ought  not  to  take  oath,  hold  office,  or  render  military 
service.  In  short,  if  you  took  equal  parts  of  a  Hard- 
shell Baptist  and  a  Quaker  you  could  make  a  very  good 
Mennonite  and  at  the  same  time  a  good  citizen,  in  off 
years  and  in  time  of  peace.  They  had  an  agreement 
with  the  Kussian  Government  under  which  they  tilled 
the  land  and  paid  a  reasonable  tax,  but  they  were  not 
called  upon  o  take  arms.  They  lived  in  villages,  kept 
their  German  costumes  and  language,  reared  families, 
and  were  prosperous  and  happy.  That  troubled  the 
Czar.  In  1871  the  Kussian  Government  gave  notice 
that  ten  years  from  that  date  all  Mennonites  would  be 
expected  to  bear  arms,  like  the  Russians.  Now  the 
Mennonites  had  lived  in  Russia  for  many  years.  Many 
of  the  men  and  women  were  born  and  raised  there. 
They  knew  no  other  land,  no  other  language  save  that 
of  their  forefathers,  and  they  grieved  at  the  thought 
of  leaving  the  pleasant  villages  that  they  had  made. 
They  begged  the  Czar  to  let  them  live  there  as  the 
good  Empress  had  done,  but  he  would  not.  The  land 
office  at  Topeka  heard  of  their  distress .  and  sent  a 
German  agent  to  see  f'em,  and  he  led  eight  thousand 
of  them  to  the  promised  lands  of  Kansas.  There  were 
heartaches  at  leaving,  lamentations,  and  tears.  Many 
a  Gabriel  said  good-bye  to  his  Evangeline  with  little 
hope  of  meeting  her  again  upon  this  sphere.  But  it 
had  to  be.    They  would  not  fight,  and  so  they  came  to 


PEOPLING  THE  GREAT  AMERICAN  DESERT.  115 


Kansas.  The  railroad  company  spent  ten  thousand 
dollars  building  barracks  for  tbem  to  winter  in. 

The  sight  of  the  desolated  plains  must  have  broken 
the  hearts  and  hopes  of  any  but  a  brave,  Christian 
people,  for  that  was  the  year  when  the  ;5rasshoppers 
held  up  trains  and  devoured  everything  but  the  rails  and 
the  right  of  way.  The  moment  a  locomotive  on  an  up 
grade  struck  grasshoppers  its  wheels  became  oily  with 
the  crushed  things  and  it  was  helpless.  It  would  not 
only  slow  down  and  stop,  but  the  brake  shoes  often  be- 
came useless  from  the  same  cause,  and  the  train  would 
slip  back  again  to  the  foot  of  the  hill.  All  this,  how- 
ever, did  not  dishearten  the  Mennonites.  They  SDent 
the  winter  in  the  barracks  at  Topeka,  but  by  the  tima 
that  the  frost  was  out  of  the  ground  they  had  selected 
their  homes.  Most  of  them  had  money,  some  of  them 
were  well  to  do,  and  now  they  built  sod  houses,  bought 
ploughs,  and  began  "  ploi.ghing  the  dew^  under." 

They  were  not  an  attractive-looking  people,  there 
in  the  barracks,  wearing  sad  faces  and  sheepskin  with 
the  wool  on.  It  can  not  be  said  of  them  that  they 
moved  in  Topeka's  best  set,  but  when  spring  came  to 
gladden  again  the  plague-swept  earth  they  moved  out 
into  the  country.  For  the  first  three  years  they  tried 
living  in  communities — in  villages — as  they  had  done 
all  their  liyes,  but  at  the  end  of  that  time  they  gave 
it  up.  It  was  all  different  in  a  country  where  each  was 
to  own  ula  land  and  be  his  own  landlord.  They 
took  note  of  the  natives,  and  the  younger  ones  among 
them  began  to  imitate  the  people  who  dwelt  about.  In 
Eussia  they  had  been  able  to  keep  to  their  odd  ways, 
but  here  they  could  not.    It  was  interesting  to  watch 


116 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


them,  says  Colonel  Johnson,  especially  the  young  peo- 
ple. Year  by  year  the  boot  heels  of  the  young  men  grew 
higher  and  narrower,  until  they  finally  stood  on  their 
toes,  like  Kansas  cowboys.  The  young  women  began 
putting  on  a  ribbon  here  and  there,  feathers,  black 
stockings,  and  store  boots.  In  time  farmers  could  be 
seen  unloading  odd  bits  of  furniture  and  little  cottage 
organs  at  the  door  of  the  neat  frame  dwellings  that 
had  taken  the  place  of  the  sod  houses.  The  houses  at 
first  were  nearly  all  of  uniform  size  and  colour,  and 
were  built  by  contract.  Sometimes  a  single  contract 
would  call  for  the  building  of  a  hundred  houses. 
A  few  good  crops  ga\e  them  new  hope.  They  knew 
by  the  way  the  earth  responded  that  this  new  land 
was  a  good  land.  The  railroad  company  made  con- 
cessions that  amounted  in  the  end  to  free  transporta- 
tion all  the  way  from  Russia  for  the  colonists,  their 
personal  effects,  wooden  wagons  and  all.  In  a  few  years 
they  had  fruit  trees  growing  and  silkworms  working 
on  the  young  mulberries.  They  kept  their  faith,  built 
churches,  and  thanked  the  Creator  for  having  shown 
them  the  way  to  so  fair  a  land.  They  vrote  letters 
back  to  the  old  place,  urging  their  friends  and  neigh- 
bours to  join  them  where  they  could  buy  land  as  fair 
as  the  best  in  Russia  for  three  and  a  half  dollars 
an  acre,  and  hundreds  came.  Noble  L.  Prentis,  in  his 
Letters  from  the  Southwest,  says  that  in  six  or  seven 
vears  fifteen  thousand  Mennonites  had  come  and  set- 
tied  in  Marion,  Harvey,  McPherson,  Butler,  and  Reno 
Counties,  besides  the  Catholic  German-Russians  in 
Ellis  County,  on  the  Kansas  Pacific. 

This  coming  of  friends  from  the  old  country  kept 


PEOPLING  THE  GREAT    AMERICAN  DESERT.  117 


the  first  comers  cheerful.  The  heart  of  many  a  Ga- 
briel was  gladdened  as  he  beheld*  again  his  lost  Evange- 
line, looking  none  the  worse  for  the  loss  of  her  sheep- 
skin skirt.  These  Mennonites  spoke  Russian  on  de- 
mand, but  preferred  German.  They  named  towns 
Alexanderwohl,  Hoffnungsthal,  and  Gnadenau.  They 
were  the  best  judges  of  land,  says  the  land  commis- 
sioner, that  ever  came  to  Kansas.  They  were  extrero.ely 
industrious,  honest,  and  ever  ready  to  help  one  an- 
other, took  care  of  their  own  poor,  the  ill,  and  the  aged, 
sent  missionaries  to  the  Indian  Territory,  and  money  to 
Russia.  At  the  last  moment — when  the  time  allowed 
by  the  Russian  Government  in  which  they  were  to 
choose  between  war  and  another  home  had  lapsed — 
a  thousand  left  for  America.  They  had  not  time  to 
dispose  of  their  crops  and  other  personal  property,  and 
so,  abandoning  all,  flew  to  the  land  of  the  free,  of 
which  by  that  time  they  had  heard  a  great  deal.  They 
reached  Kansas  almost  penniless,  but  not  without 
friends.  The  land  department  cut  up  farms  into  fortyr 
acre  lots  for  them,  the  prosperous  Mennonites  gave 
them  money  for  the  first  payment,  built  houses,  bought 
teams  and  utensils,  and  started  the  newcomers  plough- 
ing in  the  dew.  Like  the  rest,  they  prospered,  paid  off 
their  debts,  and  in  a  little  while  had  cheerful,  com- 
fortable homes.  And  so,  bearing  one  another's  bur- 
dens, quietly  and  without  acclaim,  they  have  given  the 
world  a  beautiful  lesson,  and  strengthened  our  belief 
in  the  old  saying  that  the  Lord  helps  those  who  help 
themselves. 

To  be  sure,  they  have  had  dry  seasons  and  dark 
days,  but  they  have  been  patient,  and  to-day  they  form 


118 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


one  of  the  most  prosperous  communities  in  Kansas. 
Nearly  all  of  them  own  the  land  upon  which  they  live, 
many  are  well  to  do,  some  are  rich,  and  one  at  least  is 
a  millionaire.  They  are  farmers  first,  but  merchants, 
millers,  and  bankers  as  well,  and  it  has  all  come  of  be- 
ing industrious,  patient,  peaceful,  and  from  ploughing 
the  dew  under. 

It  would  be  unfair  to  lead  the  reader  to  suppose  that 
all  the  people  lured  to  the  plains  by  the  land  depart- 
ment of  the  Santa  F6  have  prospered.  Hundreds,  if 
not  thousands,  who  settled  beyond  the  rain  belt  gave 
up  in  despair,  and  returned  poorer  than  ever  to  the  old 
homestead.  In  extreme  cases  the  railroad  company 
gave  seed  wheat  to  all  who  would  stay  and  try  again, 
and  to  those  who  had  not  the  heart  it  gave  free  trans- 
portation to  the  homes  that  they  had  left. 
.  Hundreds  of  abandoned  housis  dotted  the  desert, 
publishing  to  all  who  passed  the  poverty  of  the  coun- 
try. Where  the  buffalo  and  the  Indian  had  flourished 
and  waxed  fat,  the  white  man  had  starved.  One  could 
see  from  the  car  window  how  the  home  hunter  had 
fretted  the  earth  that  had  given  nothing  in  return  for 
the  costly  seed  sown,  and  the  lone  sod  house,  silent  save 
for  the  cry  of  the  west  wind  that  came  moaning  in 
through  the  open  window,  told  its  own  story. 

There  was  a  way — there  is  a  way — ^tc  make  this 
desert  bloom,  but  the  lone  settler  had  not  found  it  out. 


CHAPTER  XL 


THE   BOAD    BEACHES    THE    BOCKIES. 


So  much  time  had  been  lost  in  securing  the  neces- 
sary capital  for  the  construction  of  the  Santa  Fe  road 
that  its  builders  had  closely  approached  the  time  limit 
allowed  by  law  long  before  they  reached  the  State  line. 
If  they  failed  to  complete  the  road  within  the  time  fixed 
by  Congress  they  would  lose  the  large  land  grant,  upon 
which  they  had  borrowed  a  great  deal  of  money,  and  in 
surveying  and  mapping  which  they  had  squandered 
much  time  and  labour.  Naturally,  then,  the  closing 
of  the  construction  work  was  full  of  rush  and  excite- 
ment. Fortunately  the  Indians  had  by  that  time  gone 
over  the  Range,  with  the  buffalo  and  the  bad  man, 
so  that  the  road  makers  had  no  obstacles  of  that  char- 
acter to  contend  with,  as  did  the  builders  of  the  Union 
Pacific.  The  line  was  finally  finished  in  time  to  save 
the  subsidy,  and  eventually  extended  across  the  dry, 
dead,  desert  lands,  up  the  Arkansas  Valley  to  Pueblo, 
Colorado,  at  the  foot  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  Al- 
though the  valley  has  since  been  transformed,  and  is 
now  a  garden  spot  wherever  it  has  been  watered,  it 
was  a  dreary,  desolate  waste  before  the  coming  of  the 

railroad.    When  the  president  of  the  company  made 

119 


I 


120 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


his  first  trip  over  the  new  division,  he  remarked  to 
the  general  manager  that  he  saw  at  least  one  advantage 
this  line  would  have  over  Eastern  roads.  The  com- 
pany, he  said,  would  not  be  put  to  the  expense  of 
building  side  tracks  for  passing  points,  for  one  train 
a  day  would  handle  the  business  for  the  next  two  or 
three  hundred  years. 

The  rails  had  been  pushed  so  far  into  the  unin- 
habited West  that  the  management  had  become  con- 
vinced that  the  end  of  the  track  ought  to  rest  at  the 
base  of  the  Rockies  until  there  seemed  to  be  some 
shadow  of  excuse  for  extending  the  line;  but  even  presi- 
dents and  directors  are  unable,  at  times,  to  interrupt 
the  working  out  of  the  manifest  destiny  of  a  great 
enterprise. 

At  that  moment,  when  the  road  seemed  to  want  to 
rest  in  Colorado,  the  man  already  existed  who  was  to 
push  the  rails  still  farther  into  that  sunny,  lazy  land, 
the  Southwest,  which  seemed  to  offer  so  little  in  the 
way  of  revenue.  The  then  pre*  Ident  of  the  Atchison 
Company  was  always  fearful  1  st  the  rapid  building 
into  what  seemed  to  him  a  resourceless  desert  would 
end  ultimately  in  the  ruin  of  the  road.  He  little 
dreamed  that  the  great  calamity  that  did  befall  the 
road  in  after  years  would  have  as  one  of  its  chief 
causes  the  violation  of  the  company's  agreements. 
He  could  not  have  been  expected  at  that  time  to  be- 
lieve that  a  day  would  come  when  a  single  man, 
feeling  himself  aggrieved  at  Guch  treatment,  would 
have  the  audacity  and  power  to  parallel  a  thou- 
sand miles  of  the  Santa  F6  system  in  less  than  three 
years,  and  that   other   lines,   in   self-defense,   would 


THE  ROAD  REACHES  THE  ROCKIES. 


121 


be  forced  to  do  likewise;  but  that  is  just  what  hap- 
pened.* 

President  Nickerson  was  not  much  of  a  railroad 
man,  but  he  was  an  excellent  money-getter.  "^Tp  to 
the  time  of  his  entanglement  with  the  Gould  system 
he  had  been  able  to  command  money  for  anything. 
The  East  had  faith  in  his  judgment,  but  when  the 
road  had  been  crippled  by  parallel  lines,  and  was  forced 
to  build  a  number  of  new  lines  to  keep  up  with  the 

*  The  Missouri  Pacific  and  the  Atchison  Company  had  made 
an  agreement  to  the  effect  that  neither  should  parallel  the 
other's  lines,  or  come  into  the  immediate  territory  of  the  other, 
to  divide  the  business,  then  insufficient  for  the  support  of  a  single 
road.  The  Gould  system  kept  its  pledge.  The  Santa  Fe  did 
not  build,  but  bought  the  Southern  Kansas  road  in  the  Gould 
territory.  The  management  was  asked  to  explain,  and  General 
Manager  Strong  went  to  see  Mr.  Gould. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  the  difference,  in  effect,  between  building 
a  line  to  compete  with  the  Missouri  Pacific  and  acquiring  a  line 
already  built  ?  "  asked  the  latter. 

"  No,"  said  the  general  manager  of  the  Sante  F^,  "  I  can't ; 
but  1  have  come  to  fix  it  up." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  president  of  the  Missouri  Pacific,  "  I'll 
take  half  the  Southern  Kansas  at  what  it  cost  your  company, 
we'll  operate  it  so  as  to  make  it  earn  something,  and  stop  this 
senseless  competition  for  business  where  there  is  nothing  to  com- 
pete for." 

Mr.  Strong  reported  the  proposition,  but  it  was  not  accepted. 
Now,  when  riding  over  the  Southern  Kansas  division  of  the 
Sante  Fe  system,  the  traveler  observes  that  the  engine  stops  in  a 
field,  far  away  from  any  station,  and  whistles,  and  that  this  is 
done  many  times  in  a  day's  travel.  These  "  off-brakes  "  whistles 
are  for  the  Missouri  Pacific  crossings.  Between  1885  and  the 
end  of  1887  Mr.  Gould  built  1,071  miles  of  road  in  the  immediate 
territory  of  the  Sante  Fe,  and  the  Rock  Island  1,300  miles,  also 
iu  Saute  Fe  territory. 


122 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


procession,  Boston  lost  confidence  in  him  to  some  ex- 
tent, and  the  financial  headquarters  of  the  Santa  F6 
went  to  New  York. 

The  story  that  follows  will  give  the  reader  a  very 
good  idea  of  the  ways  of  this  plain,  honest,  hard-work- 
ing millionaire. 

Along  in  the  'TOs,  when  the  rapidly  accumulating 
wealth  of  the  East  was  seeking  investment  in  the  West, 
a  party  of  Boston  capitalists  sent  a  representative  to 
Kansas  to  look  the  field  over  and  advise  them.  The 
agent  visited  the  Kansas  Pacific  Railroad,  one  of  the 
Pacific  roads  that  had  been  aided  by  a  land  grant  and 
subsidy  from  the  United  States  Government.  Tie  saw 
the  president,  told  his  business,  and  in  the  cours<i  of 
time  took  a  ride  over  the  road  in  the  president's  special 
train.  The  train,  the  stranger  observed,  was  magnifi- 
cent. The  cars  were  gorgeously  upholstered  and  had 
plate-glass  windows,  the  trainmen  were  beautifully 
uniformed,  and  the  locomotive  striped  and  belted  with 
bands  of  brass.  If  outward  appearances  were  Worth 
anything,  this  was  the  richest  road  he  had  ever  seen. 
The  private  car  of  a  division  superintendent  was  better 
than  the  conveyance  provided  by  the  average  New 
England  road  for  its  president.  The  table  in  the 
president's  train  was  better  than  he  had  been  used  to 
at  the  best  Boston  club.  The  negro  servants,  arrayed 
in  spotless  linen,  were  dreams  in  black  and  white. 
Wherever  the  eye  of  the  agent  turned  it  rested  upon 
some  evidence  of  the  presence  of  wealth.  As  the  car 
followed  the  sun  westward  bhey  dined  like  princes,  and 
cooled  their  throats  and  warmed  their  blood  with  wine 
that  sparkled,  and  wine  that  was  of  a  deep  dark  red. 


THE  ROAD  REACHES  THE  ROCKIES. 


123 


Having  seen  all  this,  the  Boston  man  said  that  he 
would  go  south  a  little  way  and  see  what  they  were  do- 
ing on  the  old  Santa  F6  trail. 

The  Atchison,  Topeka  and  Santa  F6  had  reached 
Newton,  Kansas,  and  the  reputation  of  that  thriving 
town  had  reached  Boston.  The  stranger  stopped  at 
Topeka  to  see  President  Nickerson,  also  of  Boston,  but 
learned  to  his  disappointment  that  that  gentleman  was 
at  the  front.  With  fear  in  his  heart  he  continued  his 
journey  to  the  end  of  the  track.  In  the  yards  he 
asked  for  the  president's  train,  and  the  man,  looking 
him  over,  said  that  he  had  never  seen  the  president's 
train.  He  asked  another  yardman  for  President  Nick- 
erson's  car. 

"  They're  all  his,  T  reckon,"  said  the  switchman, 
slapping  his  hands  together  three  times  above  his  head, 
which  meant  "  three  cars  back,"  for  the  driver  of  the 
yard  engine. 

The  stranger  watched  the  men  "slam"  cars  a 
while,  and  then  spoke  to  another  man. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  how  and  where  I  can  find  the 
president  of  the  road?  " 

"Follow  that  string  o'  flats  to  the  dog  house," 
snapped  the  man,  and  then  darted  under  a  moving 
car,  made  a  coupling,  and  nearly  lost  his  life  by  reason 
of  having  taken  his  eye  from  his  work  to  answer  the 
stranger. 

The  Boston  man  saw  that  he  ought  not  to  bother 
these  men  who  were  dodging  death  every  two  and  a 
half  minutes  for  two  and  a  half  dollars  a  day,  and 
moved  on  toward  the  end  of  the  long  string  of  flats. 
About  that  time  a  yard  engine  was  coupled  on  to  the 


! 


124 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


"  empties,"  and  began  to  shove  them  slowly  down 
the  yard.  The  man  walking  there  did  not  notice 
that  the  train  was  being  moved  until  the  engine, 
backing  up,  passed  him,  and  the  train  of  flats  was 
out  of  reach.  Finally  the  engine  stopped,  and  in 
time  he  reached  the  little  red  caboose  at  the  end.  He 
had  never  seen  President  Nickerson,  and,  as  he  pushed 
the  door  open  cautiously,  he  was  disappointed  to 
find  only  "  a  couplj  of  the  men "  making  an  even- 
ing meal  of  raw  onions,  bread  and  butter,  and 
washing  it  down  with  black  coffee  brewed  on  the 
cast-iron  stove  that  stood  in  the  corner  of  the 
way-car. 


iC 


I  was  looking  for  President  Nickerson,"  he  said 
timidly.  He  had  read  in  the  papers  that  men  had 
perished  in  Newton  for  merely  mistaking  one  man  for 
another.  Without  being  in  any  immediate  danger,  he 
was  afraid. 

"  That's  him,"  said  the  brakeman,  jabbing  at  his 
vis-d-vis  with  an  onion  which  he  had  just  been  dabbing 
into  the  partnership  salt-heap  that  lay  on  a  piece  of 
newspaper  between  the  two  men. 

The  Boston  man  did  not  appreciate  the  joke.  He 
was  a  long  way  from  home.  He  was  not  dressed,  armed, 
or  equipped  as  other  men  about  him,  and  he  felt  out  of 
place. 

"  I  want  to  find  Mr.  Nickerson,  gentlemen.  I  pre- 
sume you  call  yourselves  gentlemen,  and,  if  so,  you  will 
not  deny  a  stranger  a  little  information.  I  have  asked 
all  the  yard  men  I  have  seen,  and  none  of  them  has 
given  me  any  satisfaction;  the  last  was  almost  un- 
civil." 


THE  ROAD  REACHES  THE  ROCKIES.         125 

.1    "  ^^*  ^'^  ^^  '^y  ^«  y«"?  "  asked  the  silent  man  at 
the  little  desk. 

"  He  said,  '  Follow  that  string  of  flats  to  the  dog 
house.* "  ° 

The  brakeman  had  his  mouth  full  of  black  offee 
and  the  laugh  that  was  in  him  almost  choked  him' 
The  other  man,  wiping  his  mouth  with  a  piece  of  the 
Kansas  City  Journal,  turned,  faced  the  stranger  and 
informed  him  that  he  had  at  last  found  Mr.  i^ick- 
erson. 


10 


CHAPTER   XII. 


THE    INVASION    OF    NEW    MEXICO. 


The  election  of  Mr.  William  B.  Strong  as  vice- 
president  and  general  manager  of  the  Atchison,  To- 
peka  and  Santa  Fe  Railroad  Company,  the  duties  of 
which  office  he  assumed  on  the  25th  of  December, 
1877,  was  the  signal  for  renewed  activity  in  extending 
the  lines  of  the  enterprising  corporation.  Its  annual 
report  for  that  year  showed  a  total  mileage  of  seven 
hundred  and  eighty-six  miles,  being  the  length  of  the 
main  line  from  the  Missouri  River  to  Pueblo,  Colorado, 
^nd  of  the  three  or  four  branches  in  Kansas  then  con- 
fatructed  and  in  operation.  Immediately  upon  his 
election  Mr.  Strong  was  directed  by  the  president  of 
the  company,  Mr.  T.  Nickerson,  to  visit  Santa  Fe,  the 
capital  of  New  Mexico,  to  secure  from  its  legislature, 
then  in  session,  such  legislation  as  would  favour  the 
construction  of  an  extension  of  the  line  from  La  Junta, 
in  Colorado,  through  that  territory  (looking  forward 
to  a  further  extension  to  the  Pacific  coast),  and  for  any 
aid  and  encouragement  which  the  Legislature  might  be 
disposed  to  give  to  the  undertaking.  A  general  law 
for  the  organization  of  railroad  corporations  was 
then  in  force,  but  it  was  hoped  that  a  special  law 

might  be  enacted  to  aid  and  encourage  the  immediate 
126 


THE  INVASION  OP  NEW  MEXICO. 


127 


construction  of  a  railroad  through  the  territory. 
Colonel  Nutt,  afterward  president  of  the  Atlantic  and 
Pacific  Railway  Company,  Mr.  Pitkin,  Governor  of 
Colorado,  and  Mr.  Miguel  Otero,  a  prominent  and  in- 
fluential citizen  of  New  Mexico,  accompanied  Mr. 
Strong  on  the  trip,  which  from  Trinidad  to  Santa  F6 
was  made  by  stage  over  the  celebrated  Santa  F6 
Trail. 

On  reaching  Santa  F6,  it  was  learned  that  the 
Southern  Pacific  interest  had,  only  a  day  or  two  be- 
fore, secured  the  passage  of  a  railroad  bill,  known  there 
as  the  California  Act,  which  required  that  a  majority 
of  any  Board  of  Directors  should  be  residents  of  New 
Mexico,  that  ten  per  cent  of  the  estimated  cost  of  con- 
struction of  the  whole  projected  line  should  be  in  the 
hands  of  the  treasurer  before  work  was  begun,  together 
with  other  obstructions  of  less  importance.  This  was 
not  what  the  advocates  of  the  Atchison,  Topeka  and 
Santa  F6  road  wanted,  for  they  knew  that  the  money 
to  build  five  or  six  hundred  mi)es  of  railroad  in  that 
remote  region  could  not  be  raised  under  such  condi- 
tions. Every  argument  was  used,  and  all  the  persuasive 
power  of  the  Santa  Fe  missionaries  brought  to  bear  to 
induce  an  amendment  of  the  law,  but  all  fruitlessly. 
The  officials  took  the  ground  that  not  a  letter  of  the 
law  should  be  changed,  and  stood  on  that  ground  ob- 
stinately. The  Americans  who  worked  in  the  interest  of 
the  Southern  Pacific  Railroad  were  firm,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  and  the  natives  were  opposed  to  any  change 
whatever  in  existing  conditions.  The  latter  preferred 
the  hauling  of  every  necessary  of  life  by  ox  teams  for 
hundreds  of  miles,  the  cultivation  of  land  with  wooden 


128 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


sticks  instead  of  ploughs,  the  harvesting  of  crops  by. 
hand,  gathering  them  into  bags  slung  over  the  shoul- 
der, the  dairying  with  goats,  and  travelling  by  burros, 
to  any  improvement  or  change.  The  prevailing  feeling 
about  the  projected  invasion  of  Yankee  capital  managed 
with  Yankee  thrift  was  well  shown  in  an  interview  be- 
tween the  New  Mexican  president  of  the  senate  and  Mr. 
Otero,  himself  a  native,  but  an  enterprising  and  pro- 
gressive one,  urging  reconsideration  of  the  law.  All 
the  talking  was  done  by  Mr.  Otero,  who  advanced  every 
argument  in  favour  of  the  new  road,  and  pictured  every 
increase  in  the  prosperity  of  the  territory  that  its  con- 
struction would  bring,  but  without  any  response  what- 
ever from  the  president,  till  an  hour  had  elapsed,  when 
he  broke  out  with,  "  We  don't  want  you  d — d  Yan- 
kees in  the  country.  We  can't  compete  with  you;  you 
will  drive  us  all  out,  amd  we  shall  have  no  home  left  to 
us.    We  won't  have  you  here! " 

Fortunately  the  advocates  of  the  Atchison,  Topeka 
and  Santa  Fe  discovered  that  by  an  oversight  the  new 
law  contained  no  repeal  of  the  existing  one,  and  no 
emergency  clause;  that  consequently  the  old  law  was 
still  in  force,  and  the  new  law  not  yet  in  effect.  Tak- 
ing advantage  of  these  omissions,  they  at  once  pro- 
ceeded to  organize  under  the  old  law  a  corporation 
called  the  New  Mexico  and  Southern  Pacific  Rulroad 
Company,  at  the  same  time  introducing  into  the  Legis- 
lature a  little  bill  of  from  ten  to  twenty  lines,  relieving 
the  new  corporation  from  all  the  objectionable  features 
of  the  "  California  Act,"  and  also  from  taxation  for 
ten  years. 

A  prominent  lawyer,  and  one  of  the  local  editors. 


THE  INVASION  OF  NEW  MEXICO. 


129 


for  reasons  not  far  to  seek,  refused  at  the  last  moment 
to  put  their  names  to  the  papers  of  incorporation. 
Others  less  crafty  took  their  places,  and  the  road,  which 
it  had  been  predicted  would  be  built  o^^.'  -  n.  paper,  was 
duly  incorporated. 

Governor  Axtell  and  Jud^^e  Waldo,  "  ^lile  not  fa- 
vouring the  new  bill,  had  promised  not  to  antagonize 
it,  and  the  general  manager  was  very  wll  satisfied  with 
the  outlook.  Two  days  later  the  disgruntled  lawyer 
secured  the  alteration  of  a  word  or  two  in  the  bill, 
changing  its  whole  tenor  and  eftect.  Thus  changed 
it  was  passed  by  the  House  and  sent  to  the  Senate  for 
action.  An  appeal  was  made  to  Judge  Waldo,  who, 
while  not  interested  in  the  bill,  conceived  that  the 
change  savoured  of  bad  faith.  He  rushed  over  to  the 
Senate,  withdrew  the  bill,  returned  it  to  the  House, 
where  he  secured  its  repeal,  and  then  its  passage  as 
originally  drawn,  took  it  to  the  Senate,  Wxiere  it  was 
passed  immediately,  and  then  carried  it  to  the  Governor 
for  his  signature.  All  this  was  accomplished  in  the 
last  two  hours  in  the  week.  It  was  so  unlike  the  usual 
deliberate  movements  of  New  Mexicans,  who  have  in- 
herited from  their  forefathers  "  Maiiana  "  as  their  rule 
of  action,  that  it  took  their  breath  away,  and  before 
they  recovered  sufficiently  to  offer  further  opposition, 
the  bill  had  been  signed  by  the  governor  and  become  a 
law. 

All  the  way  over  from  Trinidad  to  Santa  Fe  Mr. 
Strong  and  his  companions  had  fasted.  The  country 
seemed  to  them  to  afford  absolutely  nothing  fit  to  put 
into  the  unarmored  interior  of  a  Christian.  Upon 
arriving  at  Santa  Fe  they  went  into  a  little  shop  and 


130 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


y 

asked  the  man  for  something  to  eat.  All  they  got  was 
soda  crackers — biscuits,  as  the  English  say — and  a  few 
thin  cakes  of  maple  sugar,  and  upon  this  they  made 
a  meal.  After  three  or  four  days  of  fasting  rnd  fight- 
ing with  the  natives  they  made  a  capture.  Mr.  Strong, 
watching  from  the  window  of  his  ground-fioor  room, 
saw  one  of  his  companions  dragging  a  Mexican  down 
the  opposite  side  of  the  street.  The  Mexican  was  mak- 
ing a  hard  fight  for  his  freight,  but  the  Yankee  was 
yanking  him  along. 

"What  on  earth  do  you  mean?"  demanded  Mr. 
Strong,  as  he  hurried  across  the  street.  "If  we  get 
in  trouble  with  these  natives  we'll  lose  everything. 
Let  the  fellow  go." 

^^  Never!  "  said  the  man  with  the  prize.  "  He's  got 
eggs." 

"  No! ''  said  Mr.  Strong,  glancing  about,  and  with- 
out another  word  he  coupled  in  and  helped  his  friend 
drag  the  frightened  Mexican  across  the  street.  When 
they  had  him  secure  in  Mr.  Strong's  room  the  general 
manager  went  in  search  of  his  friend  and  interpreter, 
Don  Miguel  Otero.  Pushing  Otero  into  the  room  the 
railroad  manager  ordered  him  to  buy  the  man's  eggs, 
which  he  did,  and  the  two  pilgrims  had  a  banquet. 

On  returning  from  his  tour  of  conquest  in  the  land 
of  procrastination.  General  Manager  Strong  met  the 
president  of  the  Atchison  Company  at  Pueblo.  Mr. 
Strong  was  rejoicing  because  of  his  victory  over  the 
crafty  lawyer,  the  ambitious  editor,  and  the  obstinate 
natives.  "  But,"  said  Mr.  Nickerson,  "  we  have  got  no 
subsidy." 

Fancy  a  New  Mexican  Legislature  voting  a  subsidy 


THE  INVASION  OF  NEW  MEXICO. 


131 


to  a  road  that  they  did  not  want  and  refused  to 
have! 

Mr.  Strong  was  for  building  at  once,  but  the  presi- 
dent saw  no  reason  for  building  a  railroad  where  a 
buckboard  could  earn  no  money.  Barlow  and  Sander- 
son had  taken  off  the  stage  to  Santa  Fe  because  the 
Denver  and  Rio  Grande  Railroad  Company  had  refused 
to  guarantee  one  passenger  a  day  each  way,  and  yet  the 
general  manager  was  eager  to  build  a  railroad  over  the 
same  route. 

After  much  argument,  and  the  assurance  that  only 
twenty  thousand  dollars  would  be  spent  immediately, 
the  president  gave  Mr.  Strong  permission  to  begin  sur- 
veying "in  the  spring."  That  was  on  the  36th  of 
Februarv,  1878. 

Slipping  out  of  the  president's  car,  the  general 
manager  signalled  Mr.  A.  A.  Robinson,  his  chief  en- 
gineer. "  Go  to  Raton,  take  the  pass  and  hold  it,"  he 
said;  and  Robinson  took  the  afternoon  train  for  El 
Moro,  in  southern  Colorado,  then  a  booming  town 
but  now  a  deserted  village. 

When  Mr.  Robinson  stepped  on  the  train  at  Pueblo 
he  was  met  by  the  chief  engineer  of  the  rival  com- 
pany, who  was  also  going  south,  and,  as  he  surmised, 
on  the  same  errand — to  take  possession  of  the  pass  for 
the  Denver  and  Rio  (Jrande  Railroad.  Fortunately  for 
Mr.  Robinson,  on  arrival  at  El  Moro  the  Rio  Grande  en- 
gineer, not  suspecting  the  object  of  his  trip,  went  to  bed 
for  the  night.  Mr.  Robinson,  however,  remained  very 
wide  awake,  drove  over  to  Trinidad,  and  passed  the 
night,  not  in  slumber,  but  in  gathering  an  ample  force, 
which  he  supplied  with  tools  and  arms  (the  latter  being 


I 


132 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


then  as  necessary  a  part  of  a  construction  outfit  as  the 
former),  and  the  rising  sun  found  him  and  his  men 
estahhshed  everywhere  throughout  the  pass.  The  fol- 
lowing morning  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  force,  re- 
freshed and  invigorated  by  the  night's  sleep,  were  mar- 
shalled by  their  leader  and  marched  over  to  the  south 
side  of  the  mountain  to  commence  work,  but  found 
that  they  were  too  late,  and  that  the  enemy  was  in 
possession.  High  words  and  loud  talk  between  the 
leaders  ensued,  and  the  representative  of  the  Denver 
and  Rio  Grande  road,  which  claimed  Colorado,  ordered 
Mr.  Robinson  and  his  force  out  of  the  country.  The 
reply  was  brief  and  convincing:  The  Atchison,  Topeka- 
and  Santa  Fe  men  were  there,  and  in  possession;  they 
were  armed,  and  they  were  going  to  stay.  If  attacked, 
they  would  defend  themselves,  and  the  responsibility 
for  results  would  rest  with  the  attacking  party.  The 
Atchison,  Topeka  and  Santa  Fe  men  did  stay. 

Construction  went  on  without  interruption,  and 
the  road  was  completed  to  Trinidad,  eighty-one  miles 
from  the  main  line  at  La  Junta,  in  six  months  after 
Mr.  Robinson  had  taken  possession  of  the  pass.  The 
track  crept  rapidly  southward,  and  it  was  but  a  few 
weeks  later  that  it  reached  the  almost  illimitable  coal 
deposits  south  of  that  city.  During  the  cutting  of  the 
Ling  tunnel  near  the  summit  of  the  mountain  a 
svdtchback  line  at  a  grade  of  three  hundred  and  seven- 
teen feet  to  the  mile  was  operated  without  accident. 
Th.'^  first  passenger  car  entering  New  Mexico  went  over 
it  on  the  7th  of  the  following  December,  1878. 

The  lawyer  and  the  editor  who  would  not  allow 
their  names  to  be  used  in  connection  with  the  "  paper 


THE  INVASION  OF  NEW  MEXICO. 


133 


railroad  "  rode  over  its  tracks  into  Santa  Fe  on  the 
16th  of  February,  1880.  The  road  reached  Albuquer- 
que, the  connection  with  the  already  projected  Atlantic 
and  Pacific  to  the  Pacific  coast,  in  April,  1880,  Deming 
on  the  1st  of  March,  and  El  Paso,  Texas,  on  the  1st  of 
July,  1881,  completing  the  whole  of  the  projected  five 
hundred  and  sixty  miles  in  three  and  one  third  years. 
Two  years  later  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  Railway  was 
completed  from  Albuquerque  westward,  making  with 
the  Atchison,  Topeka  and  Santa  Fe  another  through 
line  to  the  Pacific  coast. 

To  the  amazement  of  President  Nickerson,  this 
road,  built  over  an  aoandoned  stage  line,  paid  expenses 
from  the  day  it  crossed  the  mountains  and  entered  the 
territory  of  New  Mexico.  The  history  of  any  Western 
road  will  prove  that  a  railroad  will  make  business  where 
there  is  none  existing. 

Among  the  well-known  characters  in  southern 
Colorado  at  this  time  was  Richard  Wooten,  more 
familiarly  and  generally  known  throughout  the  region 
as  "  Uncle  Dick."  He  was  among  the  first  white  men 
to  settle  there,  going  out  some  time  in  the  early  '30s, 
and  was  probably  at  this  time  well  beyond  the  three- 
score and  ten  years  allotted  to  man,  but  hale  and  strong, 
and  followed  around  his  ranch  by  his  youngest  off- 
spring, then  about  three  years  old.  He  was  a  firm 
friend  and  a  bitter  enemy,  and  had  for  some  reason 
taken  a  deep  dislike  to  the  Rio  Grande  crowd;  con- 
sequently he  was  ever  ready  to  do  all  in  his  power  to 
thwart  their  plans  and  to  forward  those  of  the  Santa 
FL  He  owned  and  ran  for  many  years  an  adobe  hotel 
halfway  up  the  Raton  Mountain,  and  also  owned  and 


134 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


operated  a  toll  road  over  the  range.  This  was  a  part 
of  the  old  Santa  F6  trail,  and  over  it  passed  all  travel 
between  tnat  section  and  New  Mexico,  and  all  the 
supplies  and  merchandise  sent  to  that  territory  from 
the  East.  The  road  had  long  been  a  source  of  large 
revenue  to  him,  and  the  construction  of  the  railroad 
destroyed  both  his  business  and  his  road,  much  of  the 
latter  going  into  the  grade  of  the  railroad;  but  in  spite 
of  that  his  friendship  for  the  company  and  his  interest 
in  its  success  remained  unabated.  As  an  evidence  of 
the  regard  felt  for  him  by  the  railroad  officials,  the 
great  mountain  engine,  then  the  heaviest  and  most 
powerful  one  ever  built,  was  named  "  Uncle  Dick,"  and 
under  that  name  has  worked  ever  since  up  and  down 
the  heavy  grades  of  the  mountain.  It  has  kept  the 
name  to  the  present  day,  though  every  other  engine 
on  the  line  is  now  known  by  a  number,  like  a  criminal 
condemned  to  hard  labour  for  life. 

In  late  years,  when  he  was  very  old,  misfortune 
found  Uncle  Dick,  and  took  from  him  both  property 
and  sight;  but  it  is  pleasant  to  know  that  the  com- 
pany, contrary  to  tradition,  did  no';  forget  his  early 
friendship,  but  provided  for  his  needs  and  made  him 
comfortable  till  his  death,  only  a  few  years  ago. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


THE   QBAND  CANON   WAR. 


Because  the  same  conditions  can  never  exist  again, 
there  will  probably  never  be  another  railroad  war  in 
this  country  to  compare  with  the  battle  between  the 
Denver  and  Hio  Grande  Eailroad  and  the  Atchison, 
Topeka  and  Santa  F6  Company  for  the  possession  of 
the  Grand  Canon  of  the  Arkansas — the  Royal  Gorge. 
To  be  sure,  this  war  was  only  an  incident  in  the  mak- 
ing of  the  railroad,  and  was  not  taken  into  considera- 
tion by  the  projectors  of  either  of  the  roads  that  after- 
wards became  so  actively  interested;  but  it  did  take 
place,  has  gone  into  the  history  of  the  West,  and  is 
therefore  a  part  of  the  story  of  the  railroad.  There 
is  no  evidence  that  either  company  contemplated  the 
building  of  a  line  through  the  Grand  Canon  of  the 
Arkansas  until  the  mineral  resources  of  Colorado  began 
to  attract  the  attention  of  the  mining  world. 

The  discovery  and  development  of  the  silver  mines 
in  and  about  Leadville,  and  the  consequent  increasing 
business  between  that  region  and  the  East,  determined 
the  Atchison,  Topeka  and  Santa  Fe  Company  to  ex- 
tend its  road  to  that  city.  The  rates  on  freight  were  a 
deciding  temptation  to  this  expenditure,  being  four 
cents  per  pound  by  team  from  Canon  City  to  Leadville, 

135 


136 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


a  distance  of  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles,  amounting 
to  a  little  more  than  the  charges  from  New  York  to 
Caiion  City,  a  distance  of  over  two  thousand  miles. 
The  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  Company  woke  up  to  the 
importance  of  this  connection  at  about  the  same  time, 
and  decided  to  push  its  rails  from  Canon  City  into  the 
great  mining  region.  As  there  was  but  one  available 
route  through  the  mountains,  the  canon  cut  by  the 
Arkansas  River  in  its  wild  dash  from  the  summit  of 
the  Rockies  down  to  the  Kansas  prairies,  it  was  a  matter 
of  importance  to  each  of  the  contestants  to  secure  its 
possession.  There  are  caiions  and  canons,  some  barely 
the  width  of  a  railroad  track,  and  some  broad  enough 
for  the  traffic  of  a  country^  but  the  canon  of  the 
Arkansas  for  twelve  miles  west  of  Canon  City  was  of 
the  first  character,  especially  through  the  Royal  Gorge, 
where  for  miles  the  rocks  rise  thirty-five  hundred  feet, 
making  an  absolutely  perpendicular  wall  on  either  side 
of  a  river  which  finds  less  than  fifty  feet  for  a  passage 
at  their  base.  Consequently  the  possession  of  this 
pass  was  a  condition  of  success,  and  to  hold  it  was  the 
object  of  the  struggle  now  begun. 

No  move  was  made  for  some  time  bv  either  party 
to  take  actual  possession  of  the  cafion,  until  on  the 
17th  of  April,  1878,  Mr.  Strong,  concluding  that  longer 
delay  would  prejudice  the  plans  of  his  company,  if  not 
render  their  accomplishment  impossible,  directed  Mr. 
A.  A.  Robinson,  chief  engineer,  to  take  immediate 
action.  The  Atchison,  Topeka  and  Santa  Fe  was  then 
building  from  La  Junta,  on  its  main  line,  southerly 
through  Colorado,  and  over  the  Raton  Mountain,  as 
already  described,  into  New  Mexico,  on  its  way  to  the 


THE  GRAND  CASfON  WAR. 


137 


Pacific  coast,  then  many  hundred  miles  distant.  The 
nearest  engineering  station  was  at  Deep  Rock,  a  point 
on  the  new  line  some  fifty  miles  south  of  Rocky  Ford 
on  the  main  line,  its  nearest  railroad  or  telegraph  point. 
A  messenger  was  dispatched  on  horseback  from  Rocky 
Ford,  bearing  to  the  engineer  in  charge  at  Deep  Rock 
the  order  to  leave  whatever  work  he  had  on  hand  and 
go  direct  to  Canon  City,  with  men  enough  to  take  pos- 
session of  the  caiion  and  hold  it,  and  to  do  this  without 
a  moment's  delay.  W.  R.  Morley,  the  engineer  in 
charge  of  construction  at  El  Moro,  in  Colorado,  was 
sent  to  relieve  the  Deep  Rock  engineer,  but,  upon 
reaching  Rocky  Ford,  found  that  the  other  man  had 
failed  to  receive,  or  at  all  events  to  carry  out,  his 
instructions. 

Not  a  great  deal  had  been  said  to  Mr.  Morley.  His 
instructions  were  to  go  to  Deep  Rock,  and  the  canon 
had  been  discussed  only  incidentally,  but  he  instinc- 
tively comprehended  the  situation  and  turned  west- 
ward. He  asked  for  an  engine  to  take  him  back  to 
Pueblo,  reaching  that  place  late  in  the  evening  of 
April  18th.*  Here  he  learned  that  a  large  force  of 
Denver  and  Rio  Grande  men,  with  a  complete  construc- 
tion outfit,  had  gone  west  by  the  night  train,  under 
orders  to  take  possession  of  the  caiion  on  the  following 
morning.  If  he  could  reach  Canon  City,  where  the 
people  were  in  sympathy  with  the  Santa  Fe,  as  they 
were  at  Trinidad  and  other  small  places  that  the  Rio 
Grande  had  ignored,  establishing  new  ones,  he  could 

♦  These  dates  are  important  only  to  those  who  care  to  follow 
the  legal  arguments  and  decisions  of  the  cou/ts  based  upon  tho 
dates  of  possession  of  the  caflon. 


I 


138 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


raise  a  force  sufficient  to  hold  the  canon  against  Gen- 
eral Palmer's  men.  But  Canon  City  was  forty  miles 
away,  and  the  Kio  Grande  was  the  only  line  that 
reached  there.  It  was  striking  midnight  in  the  dance 
hall.  There  was  a  livury  stable  'lose  by.  Fifteen  min- 
utes later  Morley  was  leaning  forward  in  the  seat  of  a 
stout  mountain  buckboard,  behind  the  best  team  that 
could  be  had  in  Pueblo,  uncertain  whether  his  trip 
would  end  at  his  wished-for  destination,  or  under  the 
torrent  of  the  x\rkansas  Kiver,  by  the  bank  of  which 
his  rough  road  lay.  He  did  not  spare  the  horses  nor 
carefully  pick  his  way.  Not  knowing  that  they  were 
b'^"  ig  pursued,  the  Rio  Grande  force  would  probably 
Utec  the  night  in  making  the  run,  for  the  road  wa?  new 
and  rough,  and  the  load  heavy  for  the  little  six- 
wheeled  locomotive.  Where  the  river  appeared  to  in- 
dulge in  unnecessary  curves,  he  cut  them  and  plunged 
into  the  stream.  Occasionally  a  coyote  or  mountain 
lion  would  hurry  from  the  trail  as  the  reckless  driver 
dashed  along.  When  day  dawned  his  horses  were  white 
with  foam,  but  still  he  urged  them  on. 

As  the  sun  rose  above  Pike's  Peak  and  spattered 
its  glory  against  the  Greenhorn  range,  the  plucky  driver 
was  still  pushing  on  for  the  front.  Somewhere  in  the 
curves  of  the  broad  valley  he  must  have  passed  the 
other  outfit.  At  times  he  fancied  that  he  could  hear 
the  sharp  screams  of  the  little  locomotive  rounding  the 
countless  curves,  turning  in  and  out  like  a  squealing 
pig  following  the  worm  of  a  rail  fence.  For  the  first 
time  it  seemed  to  him  that  his  horses  began  to  fail. 
Their  feet  were  heavy,  they  stumbled  and  fell  to  tLeir 
knees,  but,  responding  to  the  touch  of  the  whip,  got  to 


THE  GRAND  CANON  WAU. 


139 


their  feet  and  galloped  on.  The  new  nergy  put  into 
them  by  a  vigorous  use  of  the  lash  was  short-lived, 
like  the  ellect  of  champagne,  and  again  the  bronchos 
showed  unmistakable  signs  of  exhaustion.  There  were 
the  adobe  houses  of  Canon  City.  They  seemed  in  the 
clear  morning  atmosphere  within  a  stone's  throw,  but 
in  reality  they  wero  three  miles  away.  Now  the  wild 
scream  of  the  little  locomotive  broke  the  stillness  of 
the  narrow  vale,  and  went  wailing  and  crying  in  the 
crags  up  the  caiion.  A  moment  later  Morley  entered 
the  town,  side  by  side  with  the  wlieezy  little  engine 
and  its  train  of  twenty  tri-penny  cars  behind  it,  which 
ran  up  to  the  station  all  unconscious  that  it  had  run 
a  race  of  forty  miles  against  a  man  and  a  team,  and  had 
lost  the  r.ice. 

Passing  unrecognised  by  the  crowd,  Morley  reached 
the  ofRce  of  the  president  of  the  local  company  (the 
Canon  City  and  San  Juan  Railroad  Company),  under 
whose  charter  the  Santa  Fe  was  operating  in  Colorado, 
and  demanded  from  him  authority  to  occupy  the  pass 
on  behalf  of  his  railroad.  While  the  papers  were  being 
made  out,  he  saw  two  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  con- 
tractors approaching  the  office.  Passing  out  by  the 
back  door,  Morley  saw  a  shovel  branded  "  D.  &.  R.  G." 
leaning  lazily  against  a  post  to  which  a  saddle  horse 
was  tied.  Securing  the  shovel,  he  cut  the  reins  and 
rode  like  the  wind  for  the  canon,  still  two  miles  beyond 
the  town,  dcLerniined  to  hold  it  against  all  comers. 
No  one  was  there  to  oppose  his  entrance;  the  other 
crowd,  knowing  nothing  of  the  race  nor  of  his  pres- 
ence, and  not  anticipating  any  opposition,  were  mov- 
ing as  leisurely  as  an  army  through  a  subjugated  conn- 


140 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


try.  But  Morley  was  there  with  his  shovel,  commenc- 
ing the  work  of  building  the  railroad.  One  shovelful 
of  dirt  over  his  shoulder  or  twenty — what  matter? 
The  construction  of  the  Canon  City  and  San  Juan 
Railroad  was  begun. 

President  Clelland,  not  being  able  to  recruit  many 
assistants  at  so  early  an  hour,  followed  Mr.  Morley  in 
a  few  minutes  with  only  half  a  dozen  friends,  but  all 
bearing  the  arguments  which  were  then  most  respected 
in  that  country  They  had  hardly  reached  the  canon 
when  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  forces,  two  hundred 
strong,  appeared  at  the  entrance.  Laughing  at  the 
little  force  which  barred  the  pass,  and  not  suspecting 
who  was  the  leader,  they  ordered  them  out  of  the  way 
at  the  peril  of  their  lives.  Mr.  Morley  stepped  to  the 
front,  and  quietly  responded  that  he  was  there  as  the 
representative  of  the  Canon  City  and  San  Juan  Rail- 
road, that  he  had  taken  possession  of  the  canon  in  the 
name  and  behalf  of  that  company,  that  work  of  con- 
struction was  already  begun,  and  that,  having  taken 
possession  and  begun  work,  he  would  hold  the  canon 
against  any  and  all  opposition  that  offered.  Any 
attempt  to  force  him  out  would  be  met  by  his  re- 
volver and  the  arms  of  his  friends,  and  their  blood 
would  be  on  the  heads  of  those  who  attempted  to 
drive  them  out. 

From  another  man,  backed  by  so  small  a  force, 
these  heroics  would  have  inspired  but  little  respect, 
but  these  men  knew  Morley.  They  knew  also  that  if 
they  had  been  first  in  the  field,  they  would  have  made 
use  of  the  same  weapons  and  arguments  as  he  was  now 
using.    So  they  left  him  and  his  small  army  in  pos- 


THE  GRAND  CA!5fON  WAR. 


141 


session,  moved  farther  westward,  and  took  an  uncon- 
tested stand  some  miles  farther  up  the  canon.  Thus 
commenced  the  struggle  carried  on  with  violence  and 
bloodshed,  lawsuits  and  injunctions,  writs  and  coun- 
terwrits  without  number — an  internecine  war,  which 
raged  during  the  next  two  years  with  only  brief  inter- 
vals of  peace. 

Morley,  the  engineer  who  had  been  bold  enough 
to  disregard  orders,  take  matters  in  his  own  hands, 
and  to  capture  and  hold  the  pass,  now  became  the 
hero  of  the  Santa  Fe.  Mr.  Strong,  then  general  man- 
ager and  afterward  president  of  the  Atchison,  Topeka 
and  Santa  F6,  gave  the  daring  engineer  a  gold- 
mounted  rifle  as  a  slight  token  of  his  appreciation  of 
what  he  had  done. 

A  braver  man  than  Morley  never  located  a  line. 
He  was  full  of  the  fire  that  burns  in  the  breast  of  the 
truly  heroic.  No  knight  ever  battled  for  his  king  with 
a  more  loyal  heart  or  with  less  fear  than  Morley  fought 
for  his  chief. 

To  be  sure,  neither  General  Palmer,  president  of 
the  Rio  Grande,  nor  Mr.  Strong  believed  for  a  moment 
that  this  great  controversy  could  ever  be  permanently 
settled  by  violent  means,  and  after  the  first  brush,  in 
which  the  Rio  Grande  got  the  worst  of  it,  they  turned 
to  the  courts. 

Although  the  arming  and  marching  of  a  body  of 

men  across  the  country  was  in  open  violation  of  the 

laws  of  the  State,  nobody  paid  any  attention  to  that 

matter.      They    were    simply    playing    for    position. 

None  of  the  men  engaged  in  the  warlike  demonstration 

was  censured  by  the  railroad  officers.    On  the  contrary, 
11 


142 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


they  were  applauded  and  in  some  cases  rewarded  for 
their  loyalty 

The  many  legal  battles  fought  out  in  the  courts 
were  as  interesting,  if  not  as  exciting,  as  the  unlawful 
contests  that  were  going  on  in  the  canon.  The  mil- 
lions of  money  involved,  the  splendid  array  of  legal 
talent,  and  the  fevered  excitement  of  the  people,  made 
it  the  greatest  case  ever  tried  in  the  courts  of  Colorado. 

At  this  juncture  a  great  misfortune  overtook  the 
Rio  Grande — one  that  caused  the  failure  of  many  a 
deserving  enterprip«  and  many  a  worthy  man.  They 
were  without  mone},  and  were  forced,  through  pov- 
erty, to  compromise. 

In  the  last  hour,  if  not  at  the  last  minute,  of  the 
13th  day  of  December,  1878,  General  Palmer,  as  the 
executive  officer  of  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande,  leased 
and  transferred  to  the  Santa  Fe  Company  the  three 
hundred  or  four  hundred  miles  of  narrow-gauge  road 
then  owned  and  operated  by  his  company.  The  Santa 
Fe  was  regarded  as  a  Kansas  line,  while  the  Rio 
Grande  was  purely  a  Colorado  road.  The  former,  hav- 
ing Kansas  City  as  its  starting  point,  was  interested 
in  building  up  the  wholesale  and  jobbing  trade,  and  in 
making  Kansas  City  the  base  of  supplies  and  general 
distributing  point  for  the  growing  West. 

The  owners  of  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande,  as  well 
as  the  people  of  northern  Coloiado,  were  not  long  in 
discovering  the  plans  of  the  Santa  Fe,  and  the  former 
at  once  set  about  to  find  an  excuse  for  breaking  the 
lease. 

What  is  now  the  main  line  of  the  Rio  Grande  was 
then  completed  to  Canon  City,  and  as  the  Santa  F6 


Holding  the  cafSon. 


f 


I 


I 


El 


•^mmmmm 


THE  6EAND  CAKON  WAR. 


143 


people  had  a  line  of  their  own  to  the  coal  fields  a 
few  miles  below  the  canon,  they  renewed  the  fight  for 
a  sure  and  permanent  outlet  through  this  valuable  and 
only  passable  pa.«cs  to  Leadville  and  the  Pacific.  Be- 
ing in  possession  of  the  constructed  line,  they  began 
the  work  of  paralleling  the  Rio  Grande  by  grading  a- 
way  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river.  This  old  grade 
can  still  be  seen  from  the  car  windows  all  the  way 
from  the  mouth  of  the  canon  to  the  Royal  Gorge. 

In  March,  1879,  the  Santa  Fe  reopened  the  fight 
by  demanding  that  it  be  allowed  to  examine  the  books 
kept  in  Palmer's  office,  which  the  latter  refused.  With 
the  coming  of  spring  the  rival  companies  resumed 
their  arms,  and,  after  the  fashion  of  hostile  Indians, 
vent  on  the  warpath  again.  Armed  forces  occupied, 
the  canon  and  built  forts  like  cliff-dwellers,  at  the 
top  of  the  walls.  The  Rio  Grande  people  were  exas- 
perated— almost  desperate.  The  fact  that  Rio  Grande 
bonds  had  gone  up  since  the  lease  from  forty-five  to 
ninety  cents,  and  that  stock  that  was  worthless  was  sell- 
ing at  sixteen  cents,  did  not  appease  the  Palmerites. 
The  Santa  Fe  had  shut  them  out  at  the  south,  crossed 
Raton  Pass,  and  gone  on  to  the  Pacific.  They  were 
preparing  systematically  to  ruin  the  Rio  Grande  by 
building  into  all  her  territory,  even  to  Colorado 
Springs,  Leadville,  and  Denver.  General-Manager 
Dodge  declared  that  the  terms  of  the  lease  had  been 
broken  by  the  Santa  Fe  before  the  ink  was  dry  upoi? 
the  paper.  General  Palmer  openly  asserted  that  the 
Santa  Fe  had  mismanaged  the  road  and  diverted  traffic, 
and  that  it  was  endeavouring  to  wreck  the  property. 
Mr.  Strong  claimed,  on  the  other  hand,  that  the  books 


144 


:he  story  of  the  railroad. 


of  the  Eio  Grande  had  been  spirited  away  by  the  treas- 
urer, and  that  he  had  a  right  to  see  them. 

On  the  21st  of  April  the  Supreme  Cfourt  rendered 
a  decision,  giving  the  Rio  Grande  the  prior  right  of 
way  through  tlie  canon,  but  not  the  exclusive  right. 
It  was  finally  determined  upon  this  occasion  that  no 
company  of  railroad  builders  could  pre-empt,  occupy, 
and  hold  against  all  comers  the  narrow  passes  or  gorges 
in  the  mountains. 

The  Rio  Grande  people  were  able  to  persuade  the 
Supreme  Court  at  Washington  that  they  had  located  in 
the  canon  just  one  day  ahead  of  their  rival.  HalFs  his- 
tory of  Colorado  leaves  this  impression  in  the  reader's 
mind.  Tb^  .orian  was  probably  following  the  Su- 
preme Court,  which  in  this  case  seems  to  have  been  in 
error.  It  has  been  said  that  Judge  Harlan  saw  his 
mistake  after  it  had  been  made,  but,  like  the  driver  of 
a  new  locomotive,  the  Supreme  Court  dislikes  to  re- 
verse— it  is  hard  on  the  machinery. 

The  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  Company  had  in  its 
favour  a  special  act  of  Congress,  enacted  in  1872, 
granting  it  right  of  way  through  the  public  lands.  In 
1871,  and  also  in  1872,  it  had  made  some  surveys 
through  the  Grand  Cation,  but  of  a  purely  prelimi- 
nary character.  The  decision  of  the  Supreme  Court 
of  the  United  States  in  the  case  of  the  Denver  and  Rio 
Grande  Company  against  the  Canon  City  and  San 
Juan  Company,  as  delivered  by  Justice  Harlan,  was 
to  the  effect  that  this  special  act  of  1872  gave  it  a 
present  right  through  the  canon,  capable  of  enjoy- 
ment, though,  only  w'  ' .  i!*"  ^'\ht  of  way  should  actu- 
ally and  in  gooc'  jffr.th  be  a- 1  r  >priated;  and  he  held 


THE  GRAND  CA5J0N  WAR. 


145 


further  that  this  appropriation  was  accomplished  on 
the  night  of  April  19,  1878 — that  is  to  say,  he  dated 
the  actual  occupancy  of  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande 
Company  from  the  night  of  April  19,  1878,  and  stated 
that  evidence  of  the*  Atchison  Company's  activity  in 
that  direction  was  found  in  the  fact  that  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  20th — as  early  as  four  o'clock — some  of 
its  employees,  nine  or  ten  in  number,  in  charge  of  an 
assistant  engineer,  swam  the  Arkansas  River  and  took 
possession  of  the  canon  for  the  Santa  Fe.  He  further 
decided  that  the  surveys  of  the  Rio  Grande  Company, 
made  in  1871  and  1872,  although  very  defective  and 
not  equivalent  to  an  actual  location,  were  quite  as 
complete  and  extended  as  the  survey  which  the  Caiion 
City  Company  had  made  in  1877.*  A  dissenting 
opinion  was  filed  by  Chief-Justice  Waite,  in  which  he 
declared  that  the  Atchison  Company  had  made  the 
first  permanent  location  through  the  canon  with  a 
view  to  actual  construction. 

Shortly  after  this  decision  had  been  announced  by 
Judge  Harlan,  one  of  the  Santa  Fe  attorneys  wrote  to 
him  and  called  his  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  evi- 
dence failed  entirely  to  support  his  view  of  the  events 
that  transpired  on  the  night  of  April  19th  and  the 
morning  of  April  20th.  Justice  Harlan  wrote  him  in 
reply  to  the  effect  that  the  important  considerations  in 
his  mind  were  the  grant  to  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande 
Company  in  1872,  the  early  surveys  that  Company 
had  made,  and  the  period  of  financial  depression  that 


i 


i 


*  The  opinion  of  Judge  Harlan  is  found  in  99  U.  S.  Reports, 
p.  463. 


146 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


hrd  delayed  the  construction  for  the  years  intervening 
between  that  time  and  1878. 

The  peculiar  features  of  this  litigation  are,  that 
when  the  case  was  decided  in  the  Supreme  Court  of  the 
United  States  the  Santa  Fe  people  were  in  control  of 
the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  Company,  and  held  prac- 
tically all  its  capital  stock,  and  that  the  Supreme 
Court  in  its  opinion  left  the  matter  to  be  determined 
in  supplemental  proceedings  whether  the  trade  made 
with  the  Eio  Grande  Company,  by  which  the  Santa 
F^  acquired  control  of  it,  was  intended  to  put  an  end 
to  the  litigation  over  the  canon.  In  the  negotiations 
between  General  Palmer  and  President  Nickerson 
nothing  had  been  said  in  express  terms  about  this. 
Each  seems  to  have  carefully  avoided  touching  on  the 
subject,  and  in  all  the  papers  by  which  the  Atchison 
Company  acquired  the  stock  of  the  Eio  Grande  Com- 
pany and  a  lease  of  the  road,  etc.,  there  was  not  a 
word  which  threw  any  light  on  the  question  of  the  dis- 
continuance of  the  litigation  over  the  canon. 

The  Rio  Grande  was  at  last  victorious,  but  the  road 
was  still  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  and  would  remain 
there  for  thirty  years  unless  the  Supreme  Court  would 
set  aside  the  lease. 

The  matter  of  cancelling  the  lease  now  came  br^'ore 
the  courts.  This  was  urged  by  the  Rio  Grande,  backed 
by  the  best  legal  talent  that  money  could  serine. 
Meanwhile  the  two  armies  in  the  mountains  weio  being 
increased  and  the  forts  enlarged.  In  the  midst  of  all 
the  excitement,  Attorney-General  Wright  ndded  to  the 
confusion  by  entering  suit  to  enjoin  the  Santa  F4 
Coiipany  from  operating  railroads  in  Colorado.     Th« 


THE  GRAND  CASfON  WAR. 


147 


hearing  was  had  before  Judge  Bowen,  aftenvard 
senator  from  Colorado,  across  the  Sangre  de  Christo, 
in  the  little  town  of  Alamosa.  Willard  Teller,  for  the 
Santa  Fe,  promptly  applied  for  a  change  of  venue, 
alleging,  in  language  that  could  not  be  misunderstood, 
that  the  judge  was  prejudiced  against  his  clients,  and 
that  he  could  not  hope  to  get  justice  in  such  a  court. 
It  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  a  man  who  played  poker, 
as  Judge  Bowen  did,  would  lie  down  at  Mr,  Teller's 
first  fire.  He  led  off  with  a  spirited  rejoinder  to  the 
attorney's  attack,  and  ended  by  issuing  a  writ  enjoin- 
ing the  Santa  Fe  and  all  its  officers,  agents,  and  em- 
ployees from  operating  the  Rio  Grande  road  or  any 
part  thereof,  and  from  exercising  in  any  manner  cor- 
porate rights  in  the  State  of  Colorado.  In  short,  he 
turned  the  road  over  to  the  owner*. 

Mr.  Teller  commanded  the  conductor  of  one  of  the 
trains  then  lying  at  the  terminus  of  the  track  to  "  hitch 
up"  and  take  him  to  Denver  with  all  possible  speed. 
The  employees  had,  of  cmrse,  watched  all  the  lawful 
and  unlawful  ton  tests  as  closely  as  the  higher  officers, 
and  were  ready  to  take  sides  with  their  former  em- 
ployers; and  so  the  conductor,  who  had  heard  Judge 
Bowen's  derision,  refused  to  leave  before  schedule  time. 
This  conductor  secured  a  copy  of  the  writ,  and,  fear- 
ing a  holrl-up  en  route,  placed  it  in  his  boot  and  pulled 
out  for  J  Denver. 

At  Falmer  J^ake,  when  within  fifty-two  miles  of 
jjenver,  thin  enterprising  conductor  gave  additional 
evidence  of  his  loyalty  to  MeHsrs.  Dodge  and  Palmer 
by  slipping  out  »nd  disabling  the  locomotive.  He  re- 
moved one  of  the  main  rods  (they  were  not  so  heavy 


I. 


! 


148 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


then  as  they  are  now)  and  threw  it  into  the  lake.  He 
must  have  done  more,  for  that,  unless  he  had  "  seen  " 
the  engineer,  would  not  prevent  the  engine,  still  hav- 
ing one  side  connected,  from  taking  the  train  in. 
After  crippling  the  engine,  the  conductor  boarded  a 
push-car  (hand  car  without  handles),  stood  up,  spread 
out  his  rain  coat  to  make  a  sail,  and  was  pushed  by  the 
west  wind  down  the  long  slope  into  Denver,  while 
Attorney  Teller*  sat  in  the  delayed  train  at  the  summit 
and  swore. 

It  would  seem  that  the  Eio  Grande  was  not  content 
with  all  the  advantage  it  held  in  the  courts,  but  was 
still  increasing  its  armed  force  in  the  Grand  Canon, 
where  J.  R.  Deremer,  one  of  the  engineers,  blocked 
the  trail  with  a  force  of  fifty  men. 

"  By  what  authority,"  demanded  the  Santa  Fe  men, 
looking  into  the  fifty  rifles,  "  do  you  hold  this  pass?  " 

"  By  the  authority  of  the  Supreme  Court  and  the 
fifty  men  behind  me,'^  was  Deremer's  reply. 

The  action  of  the  regular  olflcers  and  employees  of 
the  two  roads  was  prompted  by  a  sense  of  loyalty  to 
their  respective  employers,  l^ut  the  common  lierd  which 
took  service  did  so  simply  for  the  pay  of  five  dollars  a 
day,  and  had  no  higher  interest  in  the  contest.  Some- 
times the  camps  of  the  opposing  armies  were  close  to- 
gether; sometimes  the  officers  and  men  met,  mingled 
and  mixed  toddy  \ifu]rr  the  saiiH!  cedar. 

If  President  Strong  ol  the  Santa  Fe  had  realized 
file  BmonHtium  nf  the  fiihmtwn,  or,  it  were  better  to 
say,  if  |j<t  )«rt<1  l»een  Icsb  considerate  and  humane,  he 
might,  by  weeding  out  the  old  Uio  Grande  agents  and 
tMfiployees  and  replacing  them  with  men  in  sympathy 


THE  GRAND  CA5fON  WAR. 


149 


with  his  company,  have  put  himself  in  a  stronger  posi- 
tion for  what  was  to  follow;  but,  to  his  credit,  he 
allowed  the  old  men,  whose  only  offense  to  the  new 
regime  was  their  loyalty  to  the  old,  to  remain.  Al- 
though the  Santa  Fe  people  appear  to  have  paid  no 
heed  to  the  attitude  of  the  employees  along  the  leased 
line,  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  people  did,  and  upon 
the  loyalty  of  their  old  men  they  risked  everything. 

The  Santa  Fc  managers,  howevel",  were  not  idle. 
They  had,  located  on  the  main  line,  a  camp  called 
Dodge  City,  as  rough  a  community  as  ever  flourished 
under  any  flag.  From  these  rich  recruiting  grounds 
they  imported  into  Colorado  a  string  of  slaughterers 
headed  by  "  Bat "  Masterson,  whose  hands  were  red 
with  the  blood  of  no  less  than  a  score  of  his  fellow-men. 
In  justice  to  Masterson,  the  explanation  should  be  made 
here  that  he  did  most  of  this  work  in  daylight,  with 
the  badge  of  a  "city  marshal"  upon  his  unprotected 
breast,  and  that  a  good  majority  of  these  men  de- 
served killing,  bui  had  been  neglected  by  more  timid 
oificerG  of  the  law,  wholly  on  account  of  their  tough- 
jKtHH,  their  familiarity  with  firearms,  and  an  overween- 
ing fondness  for  tbe  taking  off  of  city  marshals. 

Tliere  was  not  a  man  on  eitlier  side  who  would  not 
argue  that  his  company  was  wholly  in  the  right,  "  and," 
he  winiUl  add,  KHlJiig  his  rifle  in  the  hollow  of  his  left 
arm,  "proceeding  within  the  law."  For  exiiniph!:  A 
big  Irishman  in  a  red  shirt  was  heard  to  say,  "I'm  a 
law-abidin'  man,  an'  I  believe  in  lettin'  the  law  have 
its  eoui'HO  i\i  all  Wiiu'fi;  only  in  this  case  I  know  the 
Rio  Grande's  right,  an',  be^orry,  Til  fight  for  'em." 

Judge  Bowen'j!  decision  caused  the  greatest  eon- 


160 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


fusion.  By  it  he  directed  the  sherifTs  of  the  several 
counties  to  take  possession  of  the  Rio  Grande  property, 
and  they  began  to  serve  writs  upon  the  olhcers  and 
agents  along  the  line. 

On  the  night  of  June  10,  1879,  President  Palmer 
tapped  the  wires  on  either  side  of  the  station  at  (Jolo-, 
rado  Springs,  made  a  loop  through  his  residence,  and 
sat  all  night  listening  to  the  messages  sent  over  the  line 
by  the  Santa  Fe.  General  Dodge,  Mr.  Palmer's  general 
manager,  had  established  a  line  of  mounted  couriers, 
with  stations  every  twenty  miles  over  the  entire  road, 
for  they  must  not  attempt  to  use  the  telegraph.  By 
these  couriers  they  hoped  to  be  able  to  run  trains  until 
such  time  as  they  could  get  possession  of  the  telegraph 
offices. 

They  were  reasonably  sure  tliat  Judge  Hallett 
would  reverse  Judge  Bo  wen  on  the  11th,  and  so  the 
order  went  forth  to  Palmer's  people  and  to  the  sheriffs 
along  the  line  to  swoop  down  upon  the  enemy  at  6 
A.  M.  and  capture  the  road.  Accordingly,  on  the  morn- 
ing of  the  11th  a  posse,  under  a  sheriff,  armed  with  a 
Bowen  injunc^tion,  marched  upon  the  station  at  East 
Denver  and  captured  it. 

At  West  Denver  the  station  was  found  locked,  but 
the  door  was  forced  and  an  operator  installed  at  the 
key.  To  and  from  along  the  line  the  mounted  couriers 
were  galloping  witli  messages  from  General  Pa  liner  or 
Colonel  Dodge.  Up  from  the  south  came  ex-'^overnor 
A.  C.  Hunt,  another  Tiio  Grande  general,  witL  a  for- 
midable army  that  swept  everything  before  it  sl^  effec- 
tually as  did  the  army  of  Sherman  in  its  march  to  the 
sea.     The  Santa  F6  people,  as  soon  as  they  learned 


THE  GRAND  CiSfON  WAR. 


151 


I; 

i; 


what  was  going  on,  concentrated  their  forces  at  Pueblo. 
That  important  point  they  had  determined  to  hold. 
Bat  Masterson,  with  his  imported  slayers,  was  in  pos- 
session of  the  stone  rouud-lujuse,  and  all  llio  Grande 
men  steered  clear  of  it.  The  y-.inta  ¥g  people  had  for 
forty-eight  hours  been  urging  Governor  Pitkin  to  call 
out  the  State  t  roups,  but  tht;  Governor  said  that  he 
could  not  do  so  unless  there  was  some  demonstration  of 
unlawful  force,  and  even  then  the  sheri  fs  must  first  ex- 
haust all  means  in  their  power  to  preserve  the  peace 
before  he  could  act. 

\\  hen  the  fight  was  one  on,  it  was  found  that  the 
Kio  Grande  men  were  in  need  of  rthiraint  instead  of 
encouragement.  Santa  Fe  employees  were  pulled 
from  their  cabs  and  beaten  into  a  state  of  obedien<e  to 
the  commands  of  tiie  Kio  Grande  officers.  Santa  Fe 
sympathizers  fought  as  fiercely,  only  they  appeared  to 
be  in  the  minority  at  viH  points.  Under  the  direction 
of  General-Manager  Dodge  a  train  was  made  up  at 
Denver  to  start  south.  Manager  Kramer,  of  the  Adams 
Express  Company,  hung  liis  messenger  about  with  six- 
shooters  and  locked  him  up  in  the  car.  Colonel  Dodge 
said  that  the  Rio  Grande  Company  would  run  the  ex- 
press business  from  now  on,  but,  to  avoid  delay, 
allowed  the  Adams  car  to  remain  in  the  train.  Presi- 
dent Strong,  with  his  horses  at  a  dead  run,  drove  from 
his  hotel  to  the  station,  where  Colonel  Dodge  was 
making  up  the  train,  and  all  the  people  of  the  town 
who  were  awake  ran  after  him,  expecting  that  upon 
his  arrival  at  the  station  the  shooting  would  surely 
begin.  Probably  at  no  tijne  in  their  lives,  before  nor 
since,  have  these  two  officers  known  such  a  trying 


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152 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


moment,  but  they  were  too  wise  to  begin  themselves 
a  battle  which  they  knew  they  could  not  stop.  Finding 
Mr.  Dodge  in  possession  of  everything  in  sight,  Mr. 
Strong  made  a  rush  for  the  court. 

The  greatest  excitement  prevailed  among  the  em- 
ployees all  along  the  line.  Operators  at  small  stations 
knew  not  what  course  to  take.  At  some  of  the  stations 
the  agents  were  with  the  Santa  Fe,  and  these  made  it 
impossible  for  the  Eio  Grande  to  use  the  wire  for 
handling  their  trains. 

We  have  seen  by  the  character  and  voting  place  of 
the  men  employed  by  the  Santa  Fe  that  Mr.  Strong 
was  desperately  in  earnest.  To  show  that  General 
Palmer  was  making  a  great  effort  to  avoid  mistakes,  I 
will  quote  from  a  letter  lately  received  from  a  promi- 
nent railroad  officer  who  was  in  the  fight: 

"  With  the  exception  of  about  half  a  dozen  em- 
ployees, the  men  were  all  ir  sympathy  with  General 
Palmer,  and  desired  that  he  be  successful  in  his  efforts 
to  regain  possession  o£  the  road;  and  as  each  train 
passed  Colorado  Springs,  up  to  midnight,  June  the 
10th,  as  the  trainmen  applied  at  the  Rio  Grande  head- 
quarters, which  were  then  located  at  Colorado  Springs, 
they  were  supplied  with  whatever  they  thought  would 
be  necessary  to  be  used  in  defending  their  trains  the 
next  day,  it  having  beci  previously  arranged  that  pos- 
session would  be  taken  at  six  o'clock  on  the  following 
morning." 

It  is  safe  to  assume  that  they  asked  for  all  they 
wanted,  and  got  all  they  asked  for. 

By  the  time  the  first,  train  pulled  out  of  Denver 
the  whole  State  i/:is  swarming  with  armed  men.    But 


THE  GRAND  CA5J0N  WAR. 


153 


from  a  single  county,  Pueblo,  came  the  cry  of  a  sheriff 
who  had  been  unable  to  serve  the  Bowen  writ  and 
dislodge  the  Santa  Fe.  There  Masterson  held  not  only 
tlxC  round-house,  but  the  station  and  offices.  T.he  Eio 
Grande  forces  at  Pueblo  were  under  Chief-Engineer 
McMurtrie  and  E.  F.  Weitbrec,  treasurer  of  the  com- 
pany. 

Some  of  the  Rio  Grande  men  conceived  the  idea  of 
stealing  a  cannon  from  the  militia,  with  which  they 
might  batter  down  the  round-house  and  capture  the 
killers  therein,  but  found  at  the  last  moment  that  tlje 
cannon  had  already  been  stolen  by  the  gentlemen  on 
the  other  side.  It  was  even  asserted  that  it  was  within 
the  round-house  walls,  and  the  Rio  Grande  people 
moved  yet  a  little  space  away. 

Mr.  Weitbrec,  it  would  appear,  held  the  belief  that 
a  man  who  could  be  hired  by  an  entire  stranger  to  go 
out  and  slay  people  for  a  few  dollars  a  day  could  be 
seen,  and  so  went  over  to  the  round-house  to  see  Mas- 
terson. 

When  they  had  spoken  softly  together  for  a  spell. 
Eat  called  his  captain.  The  latter  presently  went  to 
the  lieutenant,  who  was  standing  at  the  other  end  of 
the  house  where  the  men  were  massed,  and  said: 

"  Say,  you  fellers,  drop  yer  heavy  guns,  keep  yer 
light  ones,  an'  slide." 

"What?"  said  the  lieutenant. 
You're  to  lay  down — 'is  nibs  'as  seen  Bat." 
Well,"  said  the  lieutenant,  "'spose  'e  have  seen 
Bat,  where  do  we  come  in?    What's  in  the  pot?    Ye 
kin  tell  Mr.  Bat  we'll  not  quit  till  we  see  some  dough." 

The  captain  reported  to  Bat,  and  returning  to  the 


a 


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154 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


lieutenant,  who  stood  surrounded  by  his  faithful  sol- 
diers, said: 

"  Bat  says  the  gentleman  'as  seen  'im,  an'"  if  you 
gentt  don't  come  off  at  wonct  he'll  have  to  come  over 
personally.  Th'  gen'l'man  'as  seen  'im — see?"  and 
with  that  the  captain  shot  a  spray  of  tobacco  juice 
into  an  engine  pit  ten  feet  from  where  he  stood,  and 
strode  away. 

The  army  laid  down  their  arms,  for  Mr.  Weitbrec 
had  seen  Bat. 

The  surrounding  of  the  round-house,  however,  did 
not  mean  the  giving  over  of  the  whole  town,  and  the 
Santa  Fe  men  still  held  the  dispatcher's  office. 

In  the  meantime  Colonel  Dodge's  train  was  coming 
down  from  the  north,  and  Governor  Hunt  was  com- 
ing up  from  the  south.  The  excitement  was  hourly 
increasing.  Wherever  the  Santa  Fe  men  refused  to 
open  up,  the  doors  were  smashed  and  ihi  Kio  Grande 
men,  usually  headed  by  a  sheriff,  took  possession. 

When  the  train  reached  Pueblo  the  express  gar  was 
broken  into,  the  Adams  express  matter  dumped  upon 
the  platform,  and  Mr.  Kramer's  messenger,  loaded 
down  like  a  Christmas  tree  in  a  mining  camp,  where 
the  favourite  gift  is  a  six-shooter,  dumped  on  top  of 
his  freight. 

"  The  excitement  throughout  the  State  was  un- 
paralleled. Telegrams  poured  over  the  wire  to  the 
Governor's  office.  One  from  the  sheriff  of  Pueblo 
County  was  to  the  effect  that  an  armed  mob  had 
seized  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  property  there  and 
resisted  his  efforts  to  dislodge  them.  He  had  exhausted 
all  peaceable  means  to  that  end,  and  felt  that  he  must 


THE  GRAND  CA5fON  WAR. 


155 


resort  to  force,  but  asked  for  instructions.  The  Gov- 
ernor responded  that  he  must  act  within  the  strict  com- 
mands of  the  court.  It  was  not  for  him  (Pitkin)  to 
construe  the  legal  effect  of  writs  in  the  hands  of 
sheriffs;  they  must  act  upon  their  own  responsibility. 
Thrown  upon  iiis  own  resources,  later  in  the  day  the 
sheriff,  with  a  large  posse,  forced  the  door  of  the  dis- 
patcher's office.  A  number  of  shots  were  fired,  but  no 
one  was  injured.  About  dark  the  same  evening  ex- 
Governor  Hunt,  that  whirlwind  of  energy  and  indis- 
cretion, arrived  on  the  scene  from  thfi  south  with  a 
force  of  two  hundred  men.  They  had  captured  all  the 
small  stations  along  the  line,  bringing  the  agents  away 
with  them  on  a  captured  train.  It  was  stated  that  two 
of  the  Santa  Fe  men  had  been  killed  and  a  like  num- 
ber wounded.  At  Pueblo  all  was  excitement  and  con- 
fusion, where  Hunt  swept  everything  before  him."  * 

Having  placed  the  property  at  Pueblo  in  the  hands 
of  Kio  Grande  employees.  Governor  Hunt  cleared  the 
Arkansas  Valley  up  to  the  end  of  the  track  at  Canon 
City,  and  when  he  had  finished  there  the  Denver  and 
Rio  Grande  Railway  was  in  the  hands  of  its  owners. 

We  often  hear  of  a  railroad  train  being  held  up — 
sometimes  by  a  single  man — but  this  is  probably  the 
only  instance  where  an  entire  railroad  has  been  cap- 
tured at  the  end  of  a  gun,  or  a  few  hundred  guns. 

When  the  sun  rose  on  the  12th  of  June,  it  shone 
on  General  Palmer  in  all  his  glory,  running  every  de- 
partment of  the  road,  but  the  end  was  not  yet.  Judge 
Hallett  promptly  declared  Judge  Bowen's  decision  null 


♦  Hall's  History  of  Colorado. 


1 

\ 
i 

i| 

1 

156 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


and  void.  Judge  Bowen  rallied,  and  two  days  later 
issued  a  decree  placing  the  road  in  the  hands  of  a 
receiver.  Again  the  Santa  Fe  went  to  the  Federal 
Court.  In  the  meantime  rumours  of  riot  and  blood- 
shed came  up  from  all  along  the  line.  At  Pueblo  the 
Kio  Grande  men  had  erected  heavy  fortifications  all 
about  the  station,  while  up  in  the  canon  Deremer  had 
his  army  entrenched  and  supplied,  and  saw  that  no 
work  was  done  by  the  opposing  company. 

Judge  Hallett,  Judge  Miller  concurring,  now  or- 
dered all  property  unlawfully  taken,  to  be  restored  to  the 
Santa  Fe,  after  which  the  Eio  Grande  might  institute 
proceedings  for  the  cancellation  of  the  lease.  Three 
days  were  given  for  the  complete  restoration  of  the 
property  to  the  lessees. 

The  Santa  Fe  now  asked  that  the  receiver  be  dis- 
charged, which,  after  elaborate  arguments,  was  done. 
The  Eio  Grande  promptly  restored  the  road  to  the 
lessees,  and  asked  for  an  order  restraining  the  Santa 
Fe  from  operating  it.  This  order  was  issued,  a  new 
receiver  appointed,  and  the  road  restored  to  its  owners. 

Jay  Gould,  who  had  vainly  tried  a  number  of  times 
to  settle  the  strife,  now  secured  a  controlling  interest 
in  the  Denver  and  Kio  Grande,  after  which  the  war 
came  to  an  end.* 

Looking  back  over  the  twenty  summers  that  have 


*  Pj-esident  Strong:  relates  that  Jay  Gould  made  a  proposition 
to  him  at  the  "Windsor  Hotel  at  Denver  for  the  settlement  of 
the  war.  It  was  so  equitable,  so  fair  to  the  Atchison  Company, 
that  he  oould  not  believe  ii.  He  asked  Mr.  Gould  to  write  it  out, 
and  finally  requested  him  to  read  it  aloud,  which  Mr.  Gould  did. 
Mr.  Strong  then  wired  it  to  Koston,  but  got  no  reply. 


THE  GRAND  CASfON  WAB. 


15T 


slipped  away  since  the  excitement  in  the  canon,  as  the 
receding  miles  slip  out  from  under  a  sleeper,  one  is 
apt  to  say  that  the  end  of  it  all  was  a  good  ending. 
Many  of  the  men  who  took  part  in  the  war  are  still 
here  to  criticise  this  tame  picture  of  those  stirring 
scenes. 


13 


CHAPTEE  XIV. 

INCIDENTS  OF  THE  EARLY  DAYS. 

Many  really  laughable  things  happened  in  the 
making  of  the  railroads  of  the  West.  Men  often  took 
advantage  of  the  'miles  that  lay  between,  civilization 
and  the  last  stake,  and  settled  differences  as  best  they 
could  to  save  the  time  and  expense  of  going  to  court. 
Then,  often,  a  man,  or  the  company  he  represented, 
would  have  a  hard  case  that  would  not  stand  the  air- 
ing that  it  was  sure  to  get  at  the  hands  of  across^ 
examiner.  Perhaps  rival  roads  were  reaching  for  a 
certain  pass  the  possession  of  which  was  as  good  as  a- 
deed.  In  that  case  the  chief,  or  locating  engineer,  of 
each  set  about  to  beat  the  other.  In  this  way  alone,  in 
more  than  one  instance,  the  history  of  railroads — even 
of  vast  sections  of  the  West — has  been  greatly  affected. 
A  line  projected  and  planned  to  be  built  in  a  certain 
direction  was  often  headed  off  by  a  smart  rival  and 
forced  to  nose  along  the  ribs  of  the  Eockies  for  an- 
other outlet. 

The  president's  private  car,  when  the  road  was 
completed,  often  carried  him  into  a  country  alto- 
gether different  from  the  route  originally  mapped  out. 
There  was  never  any  doubt  as  to  the  loyalty  of  a 
locating  engineer.  So  far  as  the .  writer  knows,  no 
158 


I 


INCIDENTS  OP  THE  EAELY  DAYS. 


159 


attempt  to  bribe  these  fearless  pathfinders  was  ever 
made.  The  treasurer  of  one  linq,  could  always  do 
business  with  the  lawless  thugs  armed  and  employed 
by  its  rival  to  hold  a  pass  or  a  caiion,  but  never  with 
the  real  men  of  the  West.  In  the  early  days  it  was  a 
common  and  regarded  as  a  perfectly  fair  thing  to 
ditch  a  train  carrying  records,  attorneys,  or  officials 
of  a  rival  road.  To  be  sure,  care  was  always  taken  to 
do  as  little  damage  as  possible,  and  not  to  endanger  the 
lives  of  those  on  board,  the  main  object  being  to  delay 
the  train.  During  the  Grand  Caiion  war,  the  acting 
general  manager  of  the  Santa  Fe  once  had  his  special 
ditched  five  times  on  a  single  run  of  one  hundred  and 
twenty  miles  from  Pueblo  to  Denvar.  Finally,  when 
they  could  keep  him  out  of  the  town  in  no  other  way, 
the  dispatcher  put  the  special  on  a  spur  with  orders  to 
"  meet  extra  west "  at  that  station;  but  the  extra  never 
came,  and  after  hours  of  waiting  the  special  flagged  to 
the  next  telegraph  station  and  asked  for  orders. 

Conductors  have  been  known  to  disable  the  engine 
of  their  own  train,  and  engine  drivers  have  been  taken 
suddenly  and  violently  ill  on  the  road.  Upon  one 
occasion  the  resourceful  engineer  of  a  special  bearing  a 
sheriff  and  his  posse  out  to  suppress  a  lot  of  strikers 
had  a  fit  in  the  cab.  The  attack  was  so  violent  that 
he  did  not  recover  until  he  heard  one  of  the  deputies 
announce  that  he  was  a  locomotive  engineer  from  the 
Reading,  and  could  "run  the  mill  in."  Then  the 
driver  slowly  recovered. 

At  the  next  stop,  having  filled  the  feed  pipes, 
through  which  the  water  passes  from  the  tank  to  the 
engine,  with  soap,  he  announced  to  his  fireman  that  he 


160 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


was  about  to  "  throw  another  fit."  This  time  he  did 
not  recover.  The  smart  runner  took  the  throttle,  the 
fireman  having  confessed  his  inability  to  run,  and  in 
a  little  while  had  the  boiler  as  full  of  lather  as  a 
barber's  mug,  and  about  as  useful  for  steaming 
purposes.  The  train  hung  up  on  the  first  heavy 
grade,  and  had  to  wait  until  the  engineer  came  round 
again. 

To  get  the  clerk  of  a  county  or  district  court  on 
board  a  train  with  the  court's  seal  was  considered  a 
smart  piece  of  work. 

The  same  official  referred  to  here  as  having  had  his 
car  ditched  five  times  on  a  single  trip,  was  in  Pueblo 
one  day  when  A.  A.  Kobinson,  chief  engineer  of  the 
Santa  Fe,  came  to  ask  a  favour. 

"  Mr.  Blank,"  said  Mr.  Robinson,  "  I've  got  the 
clerk  of  the  district  court  at  Alamosa  here.  I  want  to 
give  him  to  you.  He  has  the  seal  with  him,  and  I  should 
like  to  have  him  in  Kansas,  or  out  of  Colorado  at  least, 
by  daylight  to-morrow  morning." 

"  But  I'm  not  going  to  Kansas,"  said  the  official. 

"  I  understand,"  said  the  chief  engineei,  "  but  I 
thought  you  might  take  a  run  out  that  way  as  a  per- 
sonal favour,  and  at  the-  same  time  to  rid  this  growing 
young  State  of  so  disreputable  an  official  as  the  clerk 
of  this  district  court  seems  to  be." 

"  He  has  stolen  the  seal  of  the  court,  eh  ?  "  • 

"Yes." 
And  you  wa^nt  me  to  steal  him?  " 
Exactly.     You've  got  the  only  engine  the  com- 
pany owns  here  that  is  fit  for  the  road,  so  I've  been 
driven  by  circumstances  to  ask  this  favour,' 


i( 


(( 


» 


INCIDENTS  OP  THE  EARLY  DAYS.  161 

"  Where  is  this  thief  thai  I  am  supposed  to  want 
to  steal?" 

"  In  your  private  car,  sir.  I  heard  him  ask  the 
■  porter  to  put  him  to  bed  at  once,  so  he's  probably 
asleep  by  this  time." 

"How  am  I  to  handle  him?  Is  he  to  eat  at  the 
first  table  and  smoke  my  cigars?  " 

"  He's  not  to  eat  at  all.  I  shall  tell  the  coi  ductor 
to  put  him  off  at  Coolidge,  and  in  that  way  save  you 
.he  embarrassment  of  an  uninteresting  acquaintance." 

''  Thank  you,  Kobinson.  You  are  very  thoughtful. 
You  may  order  the  engine,  if  you  will,  while  I  break  the 
news  to  Mrs.  Blank.  She  has  had  her  hair  crimped  for 
Manitou." 

While  Mr.  Blank  explained  the  situation  to  Mrs. 
Blank,  the  engine  backed  up  and  coupled  on.  The 
conductor  came  bounding  from  the  dispatcher's  office 
with  two  copies  of  the  running  orders,  and  they  were 
about  to  pull  out  when  Mr.  Blank  came  from  the  car. 

"You  don't  mind  a  little  shaking  up,  do  you?" 
asked  Robinson. 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  said  Mr.  Blank,  indifferently. 
*'  I  can  ride  as  fast  as  he  can  run." 

The  driver  heard  that,  and  he  made  up  his  mind 
.to  take  it  out  of  the  man  with  the  special.  They  were 
in  the  act  of  pulling  out  when  a  couple  of  men  came 
walking  rapidly  from  the  telegraph  office. 

"Where's  this  train  goin'  to?"  demanded  one  of 
the  men. 

When  neither  Eobinson  nor  the  conductor  an- 
swered, Mr.  Blank  informed  the  man  that  the  train 
was  going  to  Topeka. 


162 


THE  STORY  OF  TUB  RAILROAD. 


« 


Good  'nough,"  said  the  stranger;  "  I'll  just  take 
a  run  down  to  Topeka  m'self — will  you  jine  me. 
Bill?" 

"  This  train  doesn't  carry  passengers,"  said  the  con- 
ductor, slipping  between  the  two  men  and  the  steps 
leading  up  to  the  rear  platform  of  the  car.  Mr.  Blank 
had  paused  upon  the  second  step.  "  This  is  a  private 
car,"  he  said,  "  and  we  can't  accommodate  you." 

The  two  men  with  broad  hats  and  heavy  firearms 
drew  near.  Robinson  and  the  conductor  stepped  be- 
tween them  and  the  car. 

"  You've  got  one  passenger,"  said  the  man  who 
had  spoken  for  the  would-be  voyagers,  *'  and  I  guess 
you  can  take  a  couple  more." 

"  Keep  back!  "  said  Mr.  Blank,  raising  a  good-sized 
boot  and  swinging  it  threateningly  near  the  face  of 
one  of  the  strangers. 

"  Looka  here,"  said  the  man,  showing  his  temper, 
"I'm  a  deputy  sheriff.  You've  got  the  clerk  of  the 
district  court  in  that  car,  an'  I  want  him,  see?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  see.  I  have  not  seen  the  clerk  of  any 
court,  and  don't  want  to.  This  car  is  my  home,  and 
you  can't  come  in  here.    Do  you  see?  " 

Now  the  car  began  to  move  off.  The  brakeman 
and  porter  came  out  on  the  platform,  the  conductor 
got  aboard,  and  Robinson  stood  on  the  last  step.  Five 
men  on  the  rear  platform  of  a  special  car,  fenced  about 
with  iron  railing,  make  it  difficult  for  unwelcome 
visitors  to  mount.  The  deputies  saw  that  the  only  way 
to  take  the  car  was  to  begin  shooting.  Suddenly  the 
right  hand  of  each  of  the  officers  went  round  to  the 
right  hip.    Some  of  the  men  on  the  car  made  a  like 


M 


INCIDENTS  OP  THE  EARLY  DAYS. 


163 


movement,  but  at  that  moment  the  deputies  thought 
better  of  it  and  allowed  the  special  to  pull  out. 

When  the  train  had  crossed  the  last  switch,  Robin- 
son dropped  oi!  and  went  to  bed,  and  then  the  fun  be- 
gan in  the  private  car.  The  road  had  just  been  com- 
pleted to  Pueblo,  and  before  they  had  gone  a  mile  the 
car  was  rolling.  As  they  proceeded,  the  track  seemed  to 
grow  worse.  Mr.  Blank  had  unwittingly  "  dcred  "  the 
driver,  and  the  driver  was  showing  the  track  off.  lie 
knew  nothing  of  the  presence  of  Mrs.  Blank,  and  was 
letting  the  engine  out  regardless  of  consequences. 
Mrs.  Blank  was  a  good  sailor,  however,  and,  not  being 
able  to  appreciate  the  real  danger  as  the  men  did,  went 
to  bed,  but  not  to  sleep.  By  and  by  the  car  began  to 
pitch  like  a  side- wheeler  crossin*^  the  English  channel. 
The  negro  forward  was  busy  picking  up  cooking  tools 
and  hammering  his  head  against  the  hard-wood  finish 
in  the  kitchen  car.  The  conductor  and  brakt:man  were 
exchanging  glances  and  cold,  mirthless  smiles.  Mr. 
Blank  was  holding  hard  to  both  arms  of  a  seat. 
"  George,"  called  his  wife  from  her  room,  "  we're  going 
—in  the— ditch  I" 

George  gasped,  stood  up  and  reached  for  the  bell 
cord.  At  that  moment  they  hit  a  high  centre,  the  car 
listed,  the  window  came  up  and  crashed  against  Mr. 
Blank's  elbow. 

If  he  swore,  nobody  heard  it  above  the  deafening 
roar  of  the  rolling  car.  The  conductor,  looking  around 
when  the  crash  came,  got  a  signal  in  the  direction  of 
the  slack  rope  that  was  threshing  along  the  transoms: 
"Pull  the  bell  on  that  lunatic!"  yelled  Mr.  Blank. 
Ihe  conductor  reached  for  the  rope.    It  eluded  his 


(.  L 


164 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


grasp  and  his  elbo^v  went  through  a  window.  Another 
effort  secured  the  coveted  cord,  but  the  rope  crawled 
in  from  the  forward  car  and  fell  in  a  heap  on  the 
floor. 

In  the  excitement  incident  to  the  departure  of  the 
special  from  Pueblo  the  trainmen  had  neglected  to 
connect  the  cord  with  the  bell  in  the  engine  cab,  so  that 
now  they  could  not  communicate  with  the  daring 
driver. 

The  train  hung  to  the  track,  as  trains  will  some- 
times do  when  there  is  every  reason  for  their  going  into 
the  ditch,  and  after  a  wild  run  over  nearly  two  hun- 
dred miles  of  new  rail  it  slowed  down  and  left  the 
clerk  at  Coolidge,  just  over  the  State  line. 

As  he  was  leaving  the  train,  the  seal-thief,  in  the 
vigorous  language  of  the  West,  gave  the  porter  his 
opinion  of  anybody  who  would  make  a  business  of  that 
sort  of  night  sailing  and  think  that  they  were  having 
a  good  time. 

The  conductor  went  forward  at  Coolidge,  at  the  sug- 
gestion of  Mr.  Blank,  and  explained, to  the  engineer 
that  they  were  out  of  the  enemy's  country,  and  that  it 
would  be  perfectly  safe  lo  slow  down  to  about  a  mile  a 
minute. 


Thero  was  an  unwritten  law  among  the  trail  makers 
that  gave  a  man  with  a  gun  in  possession  of  a  pass  a 
title  to  the  same  so  long  as  he  could  hold  it.  To  be 
sure,  it  was  jumpable,  like  a  mining  claim,  as  soon  as 
the  man'p  back  was  turned,  but  that  was  the  holder's 
lookout. 

The  boldest  bit  of  work  ever  accomplished  on  the 


i 


INCIDENTS  OP  THE  EARLY  DAYS. 


165 


plains  in  the  way  of  holding  property  was  the  **  draw- 
ing in  "  of  the  Kit  Carson  road  just  before  an  officer 
of  the  United  States  court  arrived  to  sell  it.  No  doubt 
it  had  a  good  effect  in  the  end,  as  tending  toward  a 
better  understanding  on  the  part  of  foreign  investors 
of  the  nature  and  possibilities  of  enterprises  in  which, 
they  were  asked  to  invest. 

This  line,  which  was  built  from  Kit  Carson  to  Las 

Animas,    Col.,    on    the    Arkansas,    was    bonded    for 

several  millions  to  English  capitalists,  with  the  prom- 

.ise  that  it  would  ultimately  be  developed  into  a  through 

line  to  the  Paoific  coast  over  the  old  Santa  Te  trail. 

It  was  ^one  in  the  dawn  of  the  era  of  great  railroad 
construction  in  the  West,  at  a  time  when  capital  was 
comparatively  easy  to  get.  The  material  with  which 
the  fifty-six  miles  of  road  were  constructed  was  all  fur- 
nished by  the  Kansas  Pacific  Railway  Company ;,  for 
the  road,  if  ever  completed  to  the  coast,  would  naturally 
become  a  part  of  that  system.  When  the  rails  reached 
Las  Animas,  the  Kansas  Pacific  put  on  a  daily  pas- 
senger-train service  to  old  Foit  Lyon  and  tho  end  of 
the  track,  and  took  care  of  what  little  freight  originated 
on  the  branch  as  well  as  of  that  coming  into  the  new 
district  from  the  East. 

About  this  time  the  Atchison,  Topeka  and  Santa 
F6  began  the  construction  of  a  road  from  Topeka  west, 
in  the  direction  of  Santa  Fc,  also  along  the  old  Santa 
F6  trail.  The  panic  of  1873  put  a  temporary  stop  to 
railroed  building  in  the  West,  otherwise  the  Kansas 
Pacific  might  have  been  a  competitor  in  the  great  race 
for  Eaton  Pass,  in  which  the  Santa  Fe  and  the  Denver 
and  Rio  GraTide  afterward  took  part. 


I 


166 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


American  securities  were  shaky  in  '73.  The  Eng- 
lish bondholders,  having  no  returns  from  the  money 
blindly  invested,  went  into  court  and  had  a  receiver 
appointed.  Meanwhile  the  Kansas  Pacific  kept  dou- 
bling the  road  every  day  to  keep  the  rust  off  the  rail, 
and  awaited  developments.  Times  grew  harder,  and 
the  court  ordered  the  road  to  be  sold.  Of  course,  the 
Kansas  Pacific  Company  had  received  nothing  for  the 
material,  and  said,  with  a  good  deal  of  justice,  "  We 
ought  to  save  our  iron." 

The  date  was  fixed  for  the  sale  of  the  road,  and 
when  it  came  near  enough  the  Kansas  Pacific  people 
went  out  to  Las  Animas  and  began  to  gather  up  the 
things  that  they  had  loaned  to  the  new  road.  First 
of  all  they  pulled  down  the  switch-targets  at  Las  Ani- 
mas. Then  they  gathered  up  everything  that  belonged 
to  them  and  brought  it  out.  They  took  up  the  rails 
and  ties  and  carried  them  back  to  Kit  Carson.  All 
the  improvements,  stations,  tanks,  and  turn-tables  that 
had  been  built  by  them  or  with  Kansas  Pacific  ma- 
terial they  hauled  home  with  them.  Finally,  when 
they  had  finished,  they  had  hauled  the  entire  Kit  Car- 
son Railroad  up  to  Kit  Carson,  sorted  it,  and  piled  it 
up  to  dry. 

And  so  it  fell  out  that  when  the  officer  of  the 
court  came  up  to  sell  the  road,  the  local  officials  and 
the  crew  of  the  special  that  had  brought  the  party  were 
bubbling  over  with  the  joke.  To  be  sure,  some  dozens 
of  widows  and  orphans  may  have  had  their  all  invested 
here,  but  that  is  not  the  popular  belief.  The  builders 
df  railroads,  unfortunately,  are  usually  reckoned  to  be 
millionaires  who  can  stand  the  loss,  and  so  the  people 


INCIDENTS  OF  THE  EARLY  DAYS. 


167 


about  Kit  Cargon  laughed  in  their  sleeves  and  followed 
the  authorities  down  to  the  switch  that  used  to  open  to 
let  the  Las  Animas  express  in.  "  Where  is  this  rail- 
road? "  asked  the  auctioneer. 

"  Well,"  said  the  chief  engineer,  "  the  fixtures  be- 
longed to  us — there's  the  right  of  way,  though,  as  good 
as  new." 

The  owners  bought  it  in. 


The  close  of  the  war  in  the  caiion  left  the  Santa 
free  to  follow  out  the  original  plans  of  the  projectors 
of  that  line,  while  its  plucky  little  rival  turned  north 
to  help  open  up  and  develop  the  then  unknown  wealth 
of  the  mines-  in  the  mountains,  and  the  farms  and 
orchards  in  the  valleys  of  Colorado  and  Utah. 

In  twenty  years  from  the  day  Colonel  Holiday 
showed  the  "  drawing  of  his  dream  "  at  the  end  of  the 
first  thirteen  miles  of  road,  the  total  mileage  of  the  sys- 
tem had  grown  to  nearly  ten  thousand  miles,  equal  to 
half  that  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  half  that  of 
France  or  Eussia,  and  two  thirds  that  of  Germany. 
Its  rails  would  reach  more  than  one  third  the  distance 
around  the  earth,  and  upon  its  pay  rolls  were  ten  thou- 
sand more  men  than  were  in  the  United  States  Army 
at  the  beginning  of  the  war  with  Spain.  Upon  its 
rails  a  thousand  locomotives  were  employed  constantly 
with  forty  thousand  cars.  The  traffic  of  the  road  had 
been  created,  in  most  instances,  by  the  road  itself — ^by 
the  opening  and  developing  of  the  country. 

The  venerable  projector  of  the  road,  and  its  first 
president,  has  been  a  member  of  the  board  of  directors 
ever  since  the  organization  of  the  company.    He  has 


168 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


lived  to  see  the  fulfilment  of  his  prophecy — the  realiza- 
tion of  his  dream — as  few  men  have,  and  the  man  who 
rolled  upon  the  ground,  roared,  laughed,  and  called 
the  prophet  a  "  damned  old  fool,"  lived  to  see  all  this, 
and  to  be  a  passenger  agent  of  the  line,  upon  which 
there  are  five  bridges  that  cost  as  many  millions.  The 
legal  history  of  the  road,  of  the  making  and  moulding 
of  the  vast  system,  would  make  an  interesting  story. 

Ninety-five  corporations,  which  have  at  one  time  or 
another  played  an  important  part  in  the  history  of  the 
company,  are  dead  and  inactive  by  abandonment  or 
absorption.  There  are  now  seventy-nine  active  com- 
panies. The  manipulation  and  ainalgamation  of  the" 
vast  number  of  properties  has  been  done  chiefly  in  a 
legal  way  by  Mr.  George  K.  Peck,  of  Kansas,  who  en- 
tered the  service  of  the  system  in  1878.  To  him, 
chiefly,  has  fallen  the  task  of  welding  together  this  vast 
number  of  corporations,  which  were  from  time  to  time 
merged  into  the  present  system,  or  set  to  revolving  in 
close  connection  with  it. 

Many  beardless  boys  who  entered  the  service  of  the 
Kansas  road  before  it  had  crossed  the  State  line  are 
to-day  the  gray  heads  of  departments  on  what  has 
grown  to  be  one  of  the  "  longest  roads  on  earth." 

It  is  a  singular  fact  that  the  tourist,  watching  from 
a  window  of  the  California  Limited,  sees  neither  of  the 
three  cities  whose  names  combine  to  make  the  name  of 
this  great  railroad.  The  Limited  leaves  Atchison  a 
half  hundred  miles  to  the  north,  Topeka  a  half  dozen 
miles  in  the  same  direction,  and  Santa  Fe  can  be 
reached  only  over  a  branch  line. 

Mr.   Strong,  who   as   vice-president  and   general 


INCIDENTS  OF  THE  EARLY  DAYS. 


169 


manager  helped  to  make  some  of  the  company's  hottest 
history,  became  its  president  in  1881,  and  held  the 
position  for  seven  years,  leaving, the  service  and  retir- 
ing to  his  quiet  farm  at  Beloit,  Wis.,  in  1889.  For 
half  a  dozen  years  he  dazzled  the  railroad  world  of 
the  quiet  East,  and  awed  the  natives  of  the  untamed 
West. 

•■  Mr.  Charles  S.  Gleed,  an  influential  director  of  the 
Atchison  Company,  who  is  ever  ready  to  give  credit 
where  it  is  due,  declares  tl;at  Mr.  Strong  was  a  "  mag- 
nate "  when  to  be  a  magnate  in  that  territory  meant  to 
be  "  half  the  time  a  rioter  and  the  other  half  a  fugi- 
tive; *  that  strictly  within  the  bounds  of  civil  life,  he 
was  yet  as  free  as  Columbus  to  discover  new  commer- 
cial worlds,  declare  war  and  wage  it,  organize  and  build 
communities,  overturn  political  powers  of  long  stand- 
ing, replace  old  civilizations  with  new,  and  do  all  this 
asking  no  man's  leave  save  those  whose  money  was  to 
be  risked,  or  those,  few  in  number,  whose  tasks  were 
somewhat  like  his  and  in  the  same  field." 

Under  Mr.  Strong's  administration  of  the  affairs 
of  the  Santa  Fe,  Kansas  was  mostly  settled,  Colorado 
developed,  New  Mexico  transformed,  and  Arizona 
awakened;  Avhile  Texas,  California,  and  Mexico  were 
bound. together  by  way  of  Kansas;  and  all  were  guyed 
to  the  great  Western  Metropolis,  Chicago.  Towns  were 
located  and  built,  cities  were  brought  into  being,  mines 
were  opened,  millions  of  people  were  moved,  wars  were 
waged  and  customs  and  precedents  established  in  com- 
merce and  law.  All  this  was  done  with  one  man  as  the 
chief  arbiter  of  many  destinies.     Law  has  succeeded 

♦  The  Cosmopolitan,  February,  1898. 


170 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


much  of  this  individual  power.  Legislative  bodies, 
courts,  government  commissions,  commercial  organiza- 
tions, labour  organizations — all  these  have  come  on  the 
scene,  writes  Mr.  Gleed.    He  adds: 

"  Thus  the  romance  in  the  business  has  largely 
gone.  It  went  with  the  Indian,  who  once  burned 
station-houses  and  murdered  settlers  along  the  line; 
with  the  Colorado  and  Kansas  grasshoppers,  that 
stopped  the  very  trains  on  the  track;  with  the  drought 
that  drove  the  settlers  back  and  threatened  ruin  to  the 
whole  new  field  of  commerce.  It  went  with  the  strug- 
gle for  the  valuable  mountain  passes  and  the  rich- 
est valleys;  with  the  riot  of  new  discoveries  in  the 
mineral  world — the  sudden  upturning  of  precious 
metals  and  the  incredible  incoming  of  eager  fortune- 
hunters  from  every  quarter  of  the  globe.  It  went  with 
the  terrors  of  the  border,  the  great  wave  of  hardened 
and  reckless  humanity  which  precedes  rigid  civilization; 
with  the  countless  herds  of  buffalo  and  the  prairie  dog 
and  the  coyote.  It  went  with  the  unorganized  political 
activity  which  naturally  gathered  about  so  great  a 
nucleus  of  power  as  the  railroad.  It  went  with  the  ad- 
vent of  the  now  omnipresent  hand  of  law  and  legal  re- 
sistance; with  the  revelations  of  the  printed  sheet,  the 
decorated  car,  and  the  great  centennial  exhibit.  It 
went  with  the  passing  of  many  of  the  rare,  famous,  or 
notorious  men  of  the  day,  the  men  who  made  the  his- 
tory of  their  times;  with  the  end  of  the  great  gulf 
stream  of  humanity  that  poured  out  of  the  Old  World 
into  the  New,  and  with  the  flinging  open  of  Oklahoma. 
It  went  in  all  these  ways,  and  others,  and  it  went  to 
stay." 


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CHAPTEE  XV. 


THE  DENVER  AND  RIO  GRANDE. 


After  the  war  with  the  Santa  Fe,  which  left  the 
Kio  Grande  in  possession  of  the  Grand  Canon  of  the 
Arkansas,  the  latter  company  rushed  its  rails  into 
Leadville.  The  twelve  miles  of  track  that  the  Santa  F6 
had  chiseled  from  the  granite  walls  of  the  wild  gorge 
gave  the  narrow  gauge  possession  of  the  only  possible 
pass  to  the  Carbonate  Camp  in  Lake  County,  to  Aspen 
beyond  Tennessee  Pass,  and  ultimately  on  down  the 
Grand  River  to  Salt  Lake  and  the  Pacific. 

The  great  controversy  between  the  rival  roads  was 
ended  in  the  complete  "  lay  down  "  of  the  big  line  in 
1879. 

In  the  following  y3ar  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande 
reached  the  booming  silver  camp,  where  what  is  now 
the  main  line  ended  for  about  ten  years.  In  the  dawn 
of  the  '80s  all  Colorado  was  smelting  silver,  and  at  that 
time  silver  was  worth  smelting. 

Just  where  the  road  entered  the  Grand  Canon  of 
the  Arkansas  a  little  mountain  stream  poured  its 
limpid  waters  into  the  river  from  the  opposite  shore. 
Up  this  narrow,  crooked  gorge,  called  Grape  Creek 
Caiion,  probably  because  there  were  no  grapes  in  it, 
the  pathfinders   of  the  narrow  gauge  chopped  and 

171 


-i1! 


172 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


picked  their  way  until  they  reached  the  high  open 
plain  of  Wet  Mountain  Valley.  Thirty  miles  from  the 
main  line,  in  Custer  County,  lay  Silver  Cliff,  where 
thirty  thousand  men,  women,  and  outlaws  had  assem- 
hled  to  carve  out  a  fortune.  It  was  to  reach  this 
booming  camp  that  the  company  now  began  the  con- 
struction of  a  branch  line  through  Grape  Creek  Canon. 
It  finished  it  in  a  little  over  a  year,  in  time  to  carry 
away  the  corpse  of  the  dead  camp.* 

Beyond  the  Sangre  de  Christo,  on  the  Pacific  side 
of  the  range,  Gunnison  was  thriving  like  a  bit  of  scan- 
dal, building  smelters,  shipping  silver,  and  developing 
a  burying  ground  on  the  banks  of  the  Gunnison  River. 

Passenger  rates  on  the  Rio  Grande  were  six  cents  a 
mile  in  the  valleys  and  ten  in  the  mountains,  with 
freight  rates  in  proportion. 

Thesie  conditions  made  great  the  temptation  to  the 
management  tg  try  to  reach  every  booming  camp  in 
Colorado  at  the  earliest  possible  moment,  and  the  re- 
sult was  that  the  millions  of  money  used  in  construct- 
ing new  mileage,  together  with  the  millions  poured  in 
from  Europe  and  the  Eastern  States  of  America  for  the 
development  of  mines,  and  still  other  millions  taken 
from  the  hills,  gave  Colorado  an  exciting  boom,  and 
made  it  easy  to  secure  money  to  build  roads,  the  cost 
of  which  would  tie  them  with  silver  and  rail'them  with 
gold. 

While  the  branch  was  being  built  to  Silver  Cliff, 
other  engineers,  leaving  the  Leadville  line  at  Salida, 


♦  For  the  story  of  the  undoing  of  this  camp  and  railroad,  see 
my  story,  The  Express  Messenger. — C.  W. 


THB  DENVER  AND  RIO  GRANDE. 


178 


fifty  miles  above  the  mouth  of  the  canon,  toiled  up 
to  the  summit  of  the  Rockies,  reaching  the  crest  of  the 
continent  at  Marshall  Pass — ten  thousand  feet  above 
the  sea — and  dropped  a  line  to  Gunnison.  Besides  the 
silver  mines  of  the  Gunnison  country  they  found  hero 
the  only  anthracite  coal  in  Colorado,  and  immense 
beds  of  coking  coal.  In  a  little  while  the  boom  fretted 
itself  out,  the  new  liotcl  was  closed,  the  fires  died  in 
the  big  smelter,  and  finally  the  public  educator,  hiding 
the  elusive  pea  between  the  two  half  shells  of  a  walnut, 
folded  his  blankets  and  went  away. 

Meanwhile  the  restless  pathfinders,  from  the  tops  of 
the  wild  walls,  were  sounding  the  depths  of  the  Black 
Caiion  of  the  Gunnison  for  a  path  to  the  Pacific. 

Below  Sapinero  the  walls  of  the  caiion  came  so 
close  together  that  the  trail  makers  were  obliged  to 
turn  back  and  find  a  way  to  the  bottom  of  the  gorge 
beyond  the  narrows.  A  long  rope  was  fiyed  to  a  cedar, 
and  a  man  started  down.  The  rope  parted  ten  feet 
from  the  top  of  the  wall,  and  the  daring  engineer  was 
dashed  to  death  at  the  bottom  of  the  canon,  Another 
rope  was  brought,  another  man  went  over,  another, 
and  another,  and  after  burying  their  comrade  in  a 
quiet  place  they  pushed  on  and  planted  a  flag  on  the 
point  of  Currecanti  Needle.  .  They  then  turned  into,  a 
side  caiion, 'where  the  Cimarron  empties  into  the  Gun- 
nison, up  the  Cimarron,  over  Cerro  Summit  and  down 
into  the  adobe,  sage-covered  desert  lands  in  the  valley 
of  the  Uncompahgre,  the  Gunnison,  and  the  Grand. 
These  same  adobe  deserts  are  dotted  to-day  with  bits 
of  green  meadowland,  wide  fields  of  waving  grain,  and 

orchards  drooping  with  the  finest  fruit  that  can  be 
13 


174 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  EAILBOAD. 


f(3und  anywhere  on  the  continent.  The  rails  that  ran 
tlirough  the  narrow,  wild  canons  were  placed  but  three 
feet  apart,  and  all  that  portion  of  track  •shown  on  the 
company's  maps  west  of  Salida  is  still  known  as  the 
narrow-gauge  system  of  the  Denver  and  Kio  Qrando. 

Across  the  blazing  Utah  desert  the  locating  en- 
gineers i)lantcd  a  row  of  stakes,  and  in  time  tlie  loco- 
motive, begrimed  with  dust  and  alkali,  dragging  a 
huge  water  car  behind  it,  crossed  over  to  the  shores 
of  the  Great  Salt  Lake. 

The  intention  of  the  projectors  of  the  narrow-gauge 
system,  as  the  name  indicates,  was  to  build  a  road  from 
Denver  to  the  Rio  Grande  River,  and  possibly  down  to 
southern  California  by  way  of  Santa  Fe;  but  when 
Leadville  and  Aspen,  and  other  silver  camps,  began  to 
attract  people  by  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands, 
the  company  did  what  was  best  for  the  road  and  for 
the  State.  Being  a  three-feet  gauge,  the  road  could  go 
where  a  goat  could  find  a  footing.  The  locomotives 
were  heavy  for  the  gauge,  but  with  very  low  wheels. 
The  boilers  lay  so  low  that  the  links,  when  the  lever 
was  well  down,  would  almost  touch  the  ties.  The  grade 
on  the  original  main  line  was  two  hundred  and  seven- 
teen feet  to  the  mile.  A  branch  line  to  the  Calumet 
mines  has  a  grad  2  of  four  hundred  and  eight.  A  heavy 
locomotive,  can  haul  three  empty  cars — a  load  and  a 
half — up  the  hill,  and  hold  seven  loads  down,  some- 
times. 

The  Denver  and  Rio  Grande,  before  the  main  line- 
was  widened  out,  was  the  most  pretentious,  most  im- 
portant, best  equipped,  and,  so  far  as  we  know,  the 
most  extensive  and  successful  narrow-gauge  system  of 


THE  DENVER  AND  RIO  GRANDE. 


175 


railroad  in  the  world.  Nowhere  have  we  ever  seen  such 
perfect  little  palaces  as  were  to  be  found  on  this  three- 
foot  road.  The  only  thing  that  approaches  it  in  neat- 
ness aiid  completeness  is  a  little  thirty-inch  road  that 
runs  along  the  Suez  Canal,  from  Port  Said  to  Ismail ia. 

The  evolution  of  the  motive  power  of  the  Rio 
Grande  is  an  interesting  study.  The  first  locomotives 
weighed  twelve  tons — less  than  weighs  the  empty  tank 
of  one  of  the  mountain  moguls  that  scream  along  that 
line  to-dav.  The  mail  cars  had  four  wheels,  and  when 
one  of  them  got  off  the  rail  the  mail  agent  got  out,  and 
then  the  trainmen  put  their  backs  to  the  car  and 
"  jacked  it  up  "  on  the  rail  again.  The  first  coal  cars 
had  four  wheels,  a  diimp  in  the  bottom,  and  held  about 
as  much  as  an  ordinary  farm  wagon. 

A  young  man  named  Sample  came  out  from  Bald- 
win's to  set  up  the  first  engine.  When  the  work  had 
been  finished  he  remained  at  Denver,  repairing  air 
pumps  and  "  tinkering"  about."  By-and-bye  he  became 
foreman  of  the  round-house,  and  finally  master  me- 
chanic. He  had  begun  in  the  big  shops  at  Philadel- 
phia at  a  dollar  and  a  half  a  week;  now  he  gave  the 
firm  orders  for  five,  ten,  or,  twenty  locomotives  at  a 
time.  For  a  quarter  of  a  century  he  remained  at  the 
head  of  the  motive  power  department,  and  tlitn  they 
promoted  him. 

When  Mr.  Jeffrey  became  president  he  took  the 
old  master  mechanic  uptown,  put  him  in  a  fine  office 
in  a  big  building,  and  gave  him  the  salary,  title,  and 
responsibility  of  general  superintendent  of  the  system; 
but  it  did  not  make  the  old  worker  happier  than  he 
had  been  there  at  the  shops,  with  the  sound  of  the 


\rr-^ 


176 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


morning,  noon,  and  evening  whistle  calling  him  to  and 
from  his  work,  just  as  it  had  called  him  at  Philadel- 
phia in  the  days  when  his  monthly  stipend  reached  the 
sum  of  six  dollars. 

At  first  the  ties  used  on  the  Kio  Grande  were  all 
pine,  but  the  very  hard  mountain  pine.  These  little 
locomotives — four  wheals  connected^— could  curve  on 
the  brim  of  a  broad  sombrero,  and  it  was  not  an  un- 
common thing  for  the  locating  engineers  to  run  round 
a  big  bowlder  rather  than  blast  it  away.  They  would 
not  shy  off  for  a  tree  unless  it  happened  to  be  a  very 
large  one. 

In  the  mad  rush  to  reach  a  booming  camp,  no 
attention  was  paid  to  banks.  Often  in  the  early  spring 
the  two  sides  of  a  through  cut  would  ooze  down  over 
the  track  and  cover  it  with  mud.  It  was  two  or  three 
years  before  the  sides  of  the  cuts  got  the  proper  pitch 
and  became  safe. 

General  W.  J.  Palmer  was  the  ruling  genius  in  the 
building  of  the  Denver  and  Kic  Grande,  and  was  its 
president  when  the  narrow  gauge  ciossed  the  Utah 
desert.  The  money  that  made  the  Utah  line  seems  to 
have  been  Palmer  money.  Shortly  after  the  comple- 
tion of  the  road  to  Salt  Lake  the  Eio  Grande  Company 
began  to  feel  that  it  would  like  to  lose  the  general,  and 
his  general  manager,  Colonel  D.  C.  Dodge. 

Messrs.  Palmer  and  Dodge  were  not  in  a  hurry  to 
get  out.  They  had  won  the  big  battle  that  gave  to 
the  company  the  right  of  way  through  the  "^cyal  Gorge, 
and  felt  that  they  were  at  home.  The  climax  came 
one  night,  when  a  new  manager  was  temporarily  in- 
stalled at  Denver  during  the  absence  of  General-Man^ 


t 


V:    :' 


The  Royal  Gorge,  Colorado. 
(Denver  and  Rio  Grande  Railroad.) 


/  :^/'^ 


THE  DENVER  AND  RIO  GRANDE. 


177 


ager  Dodge.  The  colonel's  car  was  at  the  rear  end  of 
a  regular  train,  and  when  it  came  to  the  foot  of  the 
mountain  the  pin  was  pulled,  and  his  car  allowed  to 
drop  in  on  a  shur.  Very  naturally  the  general  man- 
ager was  indignant.  He  raved  at  the  dispatcher,  and 
was  ahout  to  wire  an  order  dismissing  that  blameless 
official,  when  he  was  reminded  of  the  fact  that  he 
also  was  at  that  n^oment  out  of  a  job. 

After  much  delay  and  a  lot  of  wiring,  the  car  was 
coupbd  on  again  and  allowed  to  proceed  to  Denver, 
but  that  was  the  end  of  the  reign  of  Messrs.  Palmer 
and  Dodge  on  the  Rio  Grande. 

But  these  indefeasible  fighters  did  not  go  out  of 
business.  They  pulled  the  pin  on  the  Western  section 
at  the  State  line,  called  it  the  "  Rio  Grande  Western," 
and  took  possession.  It  looked  at  the  moment  like  a 
poor  piece  of  property,  stretching  for  the  most  part 
away  across  a  desert  with  a  range  of  mountains  and 
the  Utah  Valley  at  the  other  end,  but  these  far-seeing 
road  makers  saw  the  value  of  the  franchise. 

Whatever  of  rolling  stock  happened  to  be  at  the 
west  end  v/as  seized  and  held  by  the  Rio  Grande  West- 
ern, and  the  same  was  done  by  the  parent  road.  The 
new  manager  for  the  old  company  now  began  to  get 
men  loyal  to  his  line  to  go  over  to  the  west  end  and 
purloin  locomotives.  When  an  engineer  got  near  the 
State  line,  he  would  have  his  fireman  pull  the  pin 
between  him  and  his  train  and  run  over  into  Colorado. 
This  business  went  on  until  both  companies  grew 
weary,  for  it  was  demoralizing  to  tu8  service  and  in- 
terfered with  the  exchange  of  traffic  which  was  neces- 
sary to  both  roads. 


"■p 


178 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


In  time  matters  were  adjusted,  the  superintendent 
of  motive  power  for  the  Rio  Grande  was  made  consult- 
ing superintendent  on  the  western,  and  in  a  few  years 
nearly  all  the  operating  department,  from  the  general 
superintendent  down,  as  Wv-11  as  the  general  passenger 
agent,  were  men  who  had  been  with  the  old  company. 

When  the  Colorado  Midland  built  across  the  moun- 
tains the  already  prosperous  Rio  Grande  Western 
widened  its  gauge,  bought  new,  heavy  locomotives,  and 
began  to  boom  with  the  business  that  came  to  it  from 
the  rival  roads  in  the  Rockies  and  from  the  Central 
Pacific  at  Ogden,  with  an  ever-increasing  local  freight 
business  originating  in  the  mines,  fields,  and  orchards 
of  Utah,  while  the  passenger  department  could  live 
on  half-rate  tickets  alone,  so  prolific  were  the  families 
that  flourished  at  the  hearths  of  the  faithful. 

Messrs.  Dodge  and  Palmer  are  still  at  the  head  of 
the  road,  which,  like  the  0.  R.  &  N.,  has  always  been 
a  good  road  for  its  owners,  its  employees,  and  the  sec- 
tion of  the  country  through  which  it  runs. 

If  we  except  the  New  York  Central  and  the  Penn- 
sylvania, the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  is  probably  the 
best  advertised  road  in  the  world.  One  reason  for  this 
is  because  it  has  always  had  a  versatile  and  enthusiastic 
passenger  agent,  but  mainly  because  God  has  scattered 
along  its  line  miles  and  miles  of  almost  matchless  scen- 
ery, so  that  every  lover  of  Nature  who  crosses  the  con- 
tinent by  this  route  becomes  at  once  a  travelling  agent 
for  the  Colorado  road. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


THE    NORTHERN    PACIFIC. 

Because  it  traversed  a  country  that  promised  some- 
•  thing  for  man  to  feed  on,  the  northern  route  was  the 
one  most  widely  discussed  at  the  beginning  of  the  talk 
of  a  transcontinental  railroad.  It  missed  the  high 
mountains  of  the  middle  West  and  the  deserts  farther 
south.  Then,  too,  in  the  very  early  days,  before  we 
found  out  that  we  were  in  a  great  hurry,  it  was  the 
cheapest  route,  for  by  it  we  were  to  sail  round  to  the 
lakes  of  the  Northwest,  or  paddle  up  the  Missouri,  take 
a  train,  or  some  sort  of  "steam  carriage,"  to  the  head 
waters  of  the  Columbia,  and  fall  with  the  current  into 
the  Pacific— trolling  for  salmon  on  the  way  'down. 

Had  it  not  been  for  the  war  with  Mexico  in  1846, 
winch  drew  attentipn  to  the  Southwest,  the  gold  dis- 
coveries in  California  in  1849,  which  drew  attention 
to  the  Golden  Gate  route,  the  efforts  of  Jefferson  Davis 
and  other  influential  men  of  the  South  in  the  interest 
of  a  southern  roufe— in  short,  if  there  had  been  no 
other  way,  the  Northern  Pacific  might  have  been  the 
first,  instead  of  the  third,  transcontinental  railroad  in 
America. 

The  Pike's  Peak  excitement  in  1859  was  another 

179 


180 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


star  by  which  the  pioneer  piloted  his  bull  team  across 
the  plains,  opening  a  new  trail  from  Omaha  to  the 
Pacific,  midway  between  the  famed  old  Santa  Fe  trail 
and  the  proposed  path  of  the  Northern  Pacific  Eail- 
road.  In  spite  of  the  prophecies  of  the  seers  of  the 
Senate,  House  of  Representatives,  and  the  financial 
world,  the  middle  and  far  West  continued  to  grow  in 
importance  and  to  give,  from  year  to  year,  promise 
of  a  great  future.  The  Mormons  had  watered  the  adobe 
deserts  of  Utah,  and  they  had  blossomed  into  broad 
vales  of  fruit  and  flowers.  This  desert  land,  so  dreaded 
by  early  voyagers,  that  lay  glistening  in  the  sun  three 
hundred  days  in  each  year,  arched  over  by  a  sky  as 
fine  and  fair,  as  clear  and  blue  as  burnished  steel, 
wanted  only  to  be  watered  to  become  the  garden  spot  of 
the  world. 

But  nobody  knew  this  in  the  early  days.  The  un- 
inhabitable West  was  looked  upon  as  a  thing  to  be 
crossed,  conquered,  and  overcome.  The  plains  and  des- 
erts were  useless,  the  great  Rockies  important  only  as 
ballast  to  keep  the  world  right  "side  up.  The  chief  aim 
of  the  transcontinental  railroad,  as  already  stated,  was 
to  reach  the  Pacific  Ocean  and  the  Orient.  The  pos- 
sibility of  the  vast  and  growing  empire  that  Hes  between 
the  Missouri  River  and  the  Pacific  coast  to-day  was  put 
aside,  as  the  ignorant  miners  of  Nevada  put  aside  the 
"  blue  stuff  "  that  polluted  their  pans  and  clogged  their 
sluices  on  the  Comstock,  thereby  daily  throwing  for- 
tunes in  the  dump.  Nature  guards  her  secrets  well, 
but  Time  will  tell.  After  all  these  centuries  Africa  and 
Alaska  are  giving  up  their  gold. 

It  might  have  taken  even  a  longer  time  to  have 


I 

7D 


THE  NORTHERN  PACIFIC. 


5S 


i 


a; 


•fl 


ISl 


demonstrated  the  riches  and  resources  of  the  "West  if 
the  civil  war  had  not  made  the  completion  of  a  railroad 
to  the  Pacific  a  political  and  military  necessity. 

When,  in  1853,  Congress  authorized  the  War  De- 
partment to  make  explorations  to  ascertain  the  most 
practicable  route  for  a  railroad  from  the  Mississippi 
River  to  the  Pacific  Ocean,  the  details,  including  the 
route  or  routes  to  be  surveyed,  were  all  left  to  Jeffer- 
son Davis,  Secretary  of  War.  Very  naturally  Mr.  Davis 
favoured  a  southern  route,  but  it  is  to  his  credit  that 
he  did  not  allow  his  prejudice  to  interfere  with  his  duty 
to  the  whole  country  in  the  matter.  He  set  five  sepa- 
rate expeditions  to  work  at  once  on  each  of  the  five 
routes  that  had  been  advocated. 

These  were  then  known  as  the  32d,  35th,  38th,  42d, 
and  48th  parallel  routes,  along  which  were  subse- 
quently built  respectively  the  Texas  Southern  Pacific, 
the  Santa  F^,  the  Kansas  Pacific,  the  Union  Central 
Pacific,  and  the  Northern  Pacific  railroads. 

Isaac  I.  Stevens,  who  had  seen  service  in  Mexico, 
and  was  then  Governor  of  Washington  Territory,  and 
Captain  George  B.  McClellan,  of  the  United  States 
Army,  were  placed  in  charge  of  the  survey  along  the 
extreme  northern  route.  Associated  with  these  leaders 
were  a  number  of  young  men  who  won  fame  in  after 
years.  Captain  McClellan  was  afterward  commander 
in  chief  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  and  was  once  the 
Democratic  candidate  for  the  presidency  of  the  United 
States.  Captain  Stevens  perished  on  a  Virginia  battle- 
field. 

Stevens  worked  west  from  St.  Paul,  McClellan  east- 
ward from  the  Sound. 


182 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


These  things  were  done  in  the  days  when  the  West 
was  a  howling  wilderness  from  the  river  to  the  coast. 
Each  of  the  outfits  was  armed,  clothed,  and  equipped 
in  true  military  fashion,  and  fixed  for  a  long  and  dan- 
gerous voyage.  Every  mile  of  territory  between  St. 
Paul  and  the  Pacific  was  held  by  the  Indians,  who, 
painted,  feathered,  and  full  of  fight,  crossed  the  path 
of  the  trail  makers  daily,  threatening  the  engineers 
and  often  engaging  them  in  bloody  battle. 

Governor  Stevens,  from  the  Mississippi,  and  Cap- 
tain McClellan,  from  the  Columbia,  fought  their  way 
up  to  the  low  crest  of  the  continent  where  a  base  of 
supplies  had  been  established. 

Governor  Stevens  came  out  of  the  work  an  enthu- 
siastic advocate  of  the  northern  route.  In  fact,  nearly 
every  one  of  the  five  men  sent  out  as  chief  of  the  several 
surveys  seems  to  have  found  a  way  to  the  Pacific,  but 
the  time  had  not  yet  arrived  for  the  great  work  of 
building  the  roads^  or  any  one  of  them.  The  reports 
of  these  expeditions,  which  were  submitted  to  Con- 
gress by  the  Secretary  of  "War  in  1855,  filled,  with 
maps  and  illustrations,  thirteen  huge  volumes.  Secre- 
tary Davis,  as  had  been  predicted,  and  as  was  perfectly 
natural  under  the  circumstances,  favoured  the  32d 
parallel  route,  and  argued,  when  submitting  his  report, 
that  the  road  should  not  leave  the  MissilSsippi  farther 
north  than  Vicksburg. 

But  finally,  when  the  time  came  for  fixing  the 
starting  point  for  the  Pacific  railroad,  it  was  fixed  by 
a  man  politically  as  far  from  Mr.  Davis  as  the  north 
pole  is  from  the  south  pole.  When  President  Lincoln, 
at  the  conclusion  of  his  first  interview  in  Washington 


THB  NORTHERN  PACIFIC. 


183 


with  General  Dodge,  put  his  long  forefinger  on  Oma- 
ha, that  settled  the  question,  so  far  as  the  first  Pacific 
road  was  concerned. 

In  this  way  the  northern  scheme  was  put  aside  for 
the  time,  though  never  abandoned  by  the  men  who  had 
been  pushing  the  enterprise.  After  the  completion  of 
the  first  transcontinental  road  the  California  capital- 
ists, who  had  made  money  out  of  the  'building  of  the 
Central  Pacific,  built  the  Southern  Pacific,  which  gave 
the  northern  route  still  another  setback. 

Asa  Whitney,  who  had  been  its  early  and  strongest 
advocate,  who  was  at  one  time  within  a  few  votes  of 
winning  from  Congress  a  strip  of  land  sixty  miles  wide, 
running  from  the  Mississippi  to  the  ocean,  including  a 
title  to  the  Columbia  River  and  sixty  miles  of  sea- 
coast,  went  out  peddling  milk.  Three  or  four  Senators 
of  the  United  States  had  it  in  their  power  to  say 
whether  this  apparently  unselfish  man  should  be  the 
emperor  of  seventy-seven  million  acres  of  land  or  of  a 
milk  wagon,  and  they  gave  him  the  wagon.  We  say 
that  he  was  unselfish  because  he  agreed  to  build  a  rail- 
Toad  through  the  middle  of  his  farm,  all  the  v  ay  from 
St;  Paul  to  Puget  Sound,  without  any  financial  aid 
from  the  Government.  If  he  had  lived  a  quarter  of  a 
century  later  he  might  have  been  a  Gould  or  a  Hunt- 
ington. 

When  the  control  of  the  Government  passed  from 
the  South  to  the  North,  the  friends  of  the  northern 
route  took  courage,  but  the  Government  was  not  going 
to  extremes.  The  friends  of  what  is  now  the  Union 
Pacific  were  close  to  Mr.  Lincoln,  who  seems  to  have 
favoured  that  survey,  just  as  Thomas  Jefferson  had 


?r 


184 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


favoured  the  northern  scheme,  and  as  Jefferson  Davis 
favoured  a  southern  route,  and  the  result  was  that  the 
Government  gave  its  aid  to  the  452d  parallel  line,  over 
which  the  Union  and  Central  Pacific  roads  were  after- 
ward built. 

On  July  2,  1864,  after  the  Union  Pacific  had  se- 
cured the  necessary  legislation  to  insure  the  construc- 
tion of  a  line  from  Omaha,  President  Lincoln  signed 
the  bill  creating  the  Northern  Pacific  Railroad  Com- 
pany. At  the  head  of  this  enterprise  was  a  man  named 
Perham,  who  had  been  before  Congress  for  some  time 
with  what  he  called  "  The  People's  Pacific  Railroad 
Company."  This  was  a  New  England  organization, 
which  had  been  squeezed  out  of  the  42d  parallel 
scheme,  and  had  transferred  its  faith,  effects,  and 
affections  suddenly  to  the  northern  route.  This  com- 
piny  was  to  receive  no  subsidy  in  Government  bonds. 
Tiie  land  grant  was  to  be  twenty  sections  to  the  mile  of 
track  in  Minnesota,  and  forty  sections  in  the  territories. 

Perham  had  persuaded  himself  that  a  million  peo- 
ple stood  ready  to  buy  each  one  share  of  stock  at  one 
hundred  dollars  a  share.  Out  of  this  insane  notion 
grew  an  embarrassing  provision  in  the  charter,  which 
r;revented  the  company  from  issuing  mortgage  bonds 
except  by  the  consent  of  the  Congress  of  the  United 
States. 

The  act  of  incorporation  named  one  hundred  and 
thirty-five  persons  as  commissioners  to  organize  the 
Northern  Pacific  Railroad  Company.  In  September, 
1864,  thirty-three  of  these  commissioners,  nearly  all 
New  Englanders,  met  at  Boston  and  elected  Josiah 
Perham  as  president.     The  officers  of  the  board  of 


THE  NORTHEIiN   PACIPIO. 


185 


commissioners  were  directed  to  open  books  for  sub- 
scription to  the  capital  stock.  It  was  necessary  that 
twenty  thousand  shares  of  stock  should  be  subscribed 
for  before  a  board  of  directors  could  be  chosen  to  elect 
permanent  officers  to  take  the  active  management  of 
the  business  from  the  commissioners  appoii'^;  by 
Congress.  Now  came  John  Hancock,  who  purchased 
one  share,  for  which  he  is  supposed  to  have  deposited 
ten  dollars  with  Mr.  Increase  S.Whittington,  treasurer 
of  the  board.  Two  Perhams  subscribed  for  one  share 
each,  while  Josiah,  the  president,  took  ten.  John  A. 
Bass  bought  one  share,  and  S.  C.  Fessenden  four  thou- 
pand. 

In  all,  twenty  thousand  and  seventy-five  siiarcb  were 
subscribed  for,  and  in  December,  18G4,  a  board  of 
directors  was  elected.  Josiah  Perham  now  became  the 
first  president  of  the  Northern  Pacific  Kailroad  Com- 
pany, and  Mr.  Whittington  chief  of  the  treasury  de- 
partment. Six  years  later,  when  the  original  sub- 
scribers were  called  upon  to  pay  the  remaining  ninety 
per  cent  on  their  stock,  they  refused,  whereupon  the 
new  board  confiscated  the  whoL  of  the  original  sub- 
scription. 

At  the  end  of  1865,  Perham,  having  exhausted  his 
means  .and  mental  and  physical  strength,  went  to  the 
wall,  like  Asa  Whitney.  He  succeeded,  however,  in 
interesting  a  number  of  Boston  capitalists,  notably 
Benjamin  P.  Cheney,  of  the  Vermont  Central  Rail- 
road, and  proprietor  of  Cheney's  Express.  These  en- 
terprising New  Englanders,  having  paid  off  the  debts 
incurred  by  Perham,  appealed  to  Congress  for  aid  in 
building  the  road. 


186 


THE  STOEY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


Two  winters  were  now  wasted  in  Washington  in  an 
effort  to  secure  the  help  of  the  Government.  The 
"down  East"  company  was  not  popular  in  the  West. 
The  fact  that  the  New  England  organization  favoured 
a  consolidation  or  combination  with  a  Canadian  line 
was  also  worked  hard  by  those  opposed  to  the  northern 
route  and  in  favour  of  the  Union  Pacific,  and  also  by 
a  great  many  public  men  who  were  opposed  to  granting 
land  to  any  company.  Senator  Sherman  was  a  bitter 
opponent  of  the  northern  route,  though  his  brother. 
General  Sherman,  was  one  of  the  earnest  workers  for  a 
road  to  the  Pacific. 

Early  in  1867  the  president  of  the  Northern  Pa- 
cific Company  conceived  the  idea  of  forming  a  rail- 
road syndicate  composed  chiefly  of  railroad  men. 
Through  the  efforts  of  his  friend,  Mr.  Thomas  H. 
Canfield,  gf  Burlington,  Vt.,  he  succeeded  'in  get- 
ting the  signatures  of  the  following  influential  men 
to  an  agreement  to  take  the  Northern  Pacific  franchise, 
debts,  and  other  disadvantages,  and  to  try  to  push  it  to 
a  practical  beginning,  if  not  to  completion.  The  first 
big  man  to  sign  what  was  afterward  known  as  the 
Original  Interest  Agreement  was  Presidi..nt  William  B. 
Ogden,  of  the  Chicago  and  Northwestern  Eailroad. 
Later  they  obtained  the  signatures  of  the  presidents  of 
the  Erie,  the  Pennsylvania,  the  Pittsburgh,  Fort 
Wayne  and  Chicago,  and  of  Vice-President  Fargo,  of 
the  New  York  Central.  Other  signers  of  the  Original 
Interest  Agreement  were  A.  H.  and  D.  N.  Barney,  and 
B.  P.  Cheney. 

The  new  syndicate  employed  an  eminent  engineer, 
Mr.  Edwiii  F.  Johnson,  and  began  surveying  a  line. 


THE  NORTHERN  PACIFIC. 


187 


lobbying  at  Washington,  and  printing  pamphlets.  In' 
a  Utcle  while  they  had  gone  into  their  private  purses 
for  a  quarter  of  a  million  dollars.  Despite  all  revbrses, 
the  holders  of  the  franchise  still  clung  to  the  belief 
that  it  was  valuable.  True,  the  Government  gave  no 
financial  aid,  but  the  land  grant  was  double  the  amount 
per  mile  given  to  the  Union  and 'to  the  Central  Com- 
pany, and  the  land  much  moie  valuable.  At  all 
events,  it  was  so  regarded  at  that  time. 

In  1869,  just  after  the  completion  of-  the  Union 
Pacific,  the  banking  firm  of  Jay  Cooke  and  Company 
was  jasked  to  take  the  financial  agency  of  the  northern 
road.  Before  giving  aii  answer,  the  big  banking  house 
sent  experts  of  its  own  to  explore, the  country  through 
which  the  proposed  road  was  to  run.  One  outfit  went 
round  to  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia,  wKile  another, 
accomp'anied  by  President  Smith,  explored  from  Lake 
Superior  to  the  Eed  River  of  the  North.  The  Pacific 
coast  party  was  chased  from  the  Yellowstone  by  In- 
di?ns,  while  the  members  of  the  eastern  end  of  tne  ex- 
pedition, together  with  their  military  escort,  were 
forced  to  fly  for  their  lives  from  Fort  Stevenson  to 
the  settlements  in  Minnesota,  pursued  by  a  big  band 
of  savages.  The  expert  engineer  of  the  banking  house 
put  the  cost  of  the  road  and  the  necessary  equipment  at 
$85,277,000,  an  average  of  $42,638  per  mile.  The  re- 
'  port  was  on  the  whole  very  encouraging  to  the  banking 
house,  and  it  became  the  financial  agent  of  the  com- 
pany. 

The  main  terms  of  the  Jay  Cooke  contract  are  set 
down  in  Mr.  E.  V.  Smalley's  History  of  the  Northern 
Pacific  Railroad  as  follows: 


188 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  Rj»ILROAD. 


"  They  provided  for  an  issue  of  bonds  to  the 
amount  of  one  hundred  million  dollars,  bearing  interest 
at  the  rate  of  seven  and  three  tenths  per  cent  in  gold. 

"The  banking  firm  credited  the  railroad  with 
eighty-eight  cents  an  the  dollar  for  the  bonds  it  sold, 
and  as  it  disposed  of  them  at  par  its  margin  was  a 
very  liberal  one.  But  the  contract  gave  it  two  hundred 
dollars  of  the  stock  of  the  company  for  every  thousand 
dollars  of  bonds  sold,  which  would  have  amounted,  for 
the  completed  road,  to  about  twenty  million  dollars, 
pnd  one  half  of  the  remainder  of  i,  one  hundred  mil- 
lion dollars  of  stock  authorized  by  the  charter. 

"  The  twelve  original  proprietary  interests  which 
owned  the  stock  were  increased  to  twenty-four,  and 
twelve  of  them  assigned  to  Jay  Cooke  and  Company.  A 
considerable  amount  of  thj  stock  was  given  by  the 
banking  house  to  subscribers  to  the  bonds,  but  in  all 
cases  an  irrevocable  power  of  attorney  was  taken,  so 
that  the  firm,  having  purchased  a  thirteenth  interest, 
'controlled  the  manngement  of  the  company's  affairs. 
Other  specifications  in  the  contract  made  'he,  firm  the 
sole  financial  agent  of  the  road,  and  the  c  *  i^positary 
of  its  funds;  provided  for  the  conversion ■  i*  he  six 
hundred  thousand  dollars  of  stock  outstandirg  into 
bonds  at  fifty  cents  on  the  doUar,  created  a  land  com- 
paii}!  to  manage  the  town  sites,  and  bound  the  firri  to 
raise  five  million  dollars  within  thirty  days,  with  which 
the  company  was  immediately  to  commence  building 
the  road." 

A  pool  was  formed  in  Philadelphia  to  furnish  the 
five  million  dollars  that  had  to  be  paid  In  at  once  for 
the  beginning  of  construction  work     The  members  of 


THE  NORTHERN  PACIFIC. 


189 


the  pool  took  the  bonds  at  par  and  received  the  twelve 
proprietary  interests  at  fifty  dollars  each.  One  of  this 
little  deal  the  banking  house  made  considerably  more 
than  a  million  dollars.  By  the  time  the  road  reached 
Red  Kiver  each  of  the  twelve  proprietary  shares  had 
earned  a  little  over  a  half  million  dollars'  worth  of 
stock.  A  company  had  been  formed  to  speculate  in 
real  estate  along  the  line — destroying  old  and  building 
up  new  camps,  planting  county  seats  and  settling  waste 
places,  one  half  the  profits  of  which  went  to  the  bank. 

The  Congress  of  the  United  States,  which  had 
stood  firm  against  the  combined  pull  and  push  of  the 
powerful  railroad  syndicate,  went  down  at  the  first  fire 
from  the  great  gold-clad  cruiser.  Jay  Cooke  and  Com- 
pany. 

To  be  sure,  the  truly  virtuous  men  of  both  houses 
made  a  strong  fight,  but  they  were  outgunned  by  the 
opposing  fleet.  The  joint  resolution  upon  which  the 
fight  was  made  was  introduced  in  1870,  authorizing 
the  issue  of  bonds  secured  by  the  land  grant  as  well 
as  the  railroad  property,  including  even  the  filing  of 
the  mortgage  in  the  office  of  the  Secretary  of  the  In- 
terior. It  practically  enlarged  thr  area  of  the  land 
grant  to  thirty  miles  in  the  States  and  fifty  miles  in  the 
territories  on  each  side  of  the  line. 

Yet,  with  all  the  advantage  enjoyed  by  the  banking 
house  in  the  way  of  gifts  of  interest,  commissions,  and 
the  absolute  control  of  the  financial  end  of  the  enter- 
prise. Jay  Cooke  and  Company  found  it  hard  to  raise 
the  money.  A  deal  had  been  made,  and  nearly  carried 
out,  by  which  a  syndicate  of  European  bankers  was 
to  take  fifty  million  dollars'  worth  of  the  bonds,  but  at 


190 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


I 


111 


I 


that  moment  Napoleon  III  began  to  make  trouble  for 
himself  on  the  Rhine,  and  the  deal  fell  through. 

By  liberal  advertising  in  almost  ever}  available 
space  Jay  Cooke  and  Company  succeeded  in  r^iisiing  a 
considerable  amount  of  money  by  the  sale  of  bonds  (the 
interest  upon  which  was  payable  in  gold)  in  the  United 
States.  Thousandrt  of  names  were  written  upon  the  big 
books  in  the  great  banking  house,  many  of  them  the 
names  of  comparatively  poor  people.  The  Cookes  now 
used  for  advertising  purposes  the  speeches  of  con- 
gressmen who  had  opposed  the  land  grant  upon  the 
ground  that  the  land  was  rich,  fertile,  and  extremely 
valuable. 

Actual  construction  work  on  the  Northern  Pacific 
was  begun  in  the  summer  of  1870,  at  Thompson's  Junc- 
tion on  the  Lake  Superior  and  Mississippi  Kailroad, 
also  controlled  by  Jay  Cooke  and  Company.  Within 
the  following  twenty-four  months  more  than  thirty 
million  dollars  were  received  from  the  sale  of  bonds, 
and  it  seemed  that  nothing  could  break  the  big  bank 
that  was  back  of  the  Northern  Pacific  Railroad.  The 
house  had  already  made  an  enviable  reputation  and 
much  money  by  placing  the  Government''*  war  loans, 
and  now  thousands  were  eager  to  trust  their  savings 
to  it. 

Early  m  1873  the  company  took  the  completed  por- 
tion of  the  road  as  far  west  as  Red  River  from  the  con- 
tractors and  opened  it  for  traffic.  The  Lake  Superior 
and  Mississippi  was  leased,  and  a  controlling  interest 
bought  in  the  Oregon  Steam  Navigation  Company,  op- 
erating nearly  all  the  steamboat  lines  on  Puget  Sound, 
the  Columbia,  Snake,  and  Willamette  rivers,  making 


THE  NORTHERN  PACIFIC. 


191 


connection  with  the  ocean  steamers  to  San  Francisco. 
The  Northern  Pacific  Company  by  this  latter  purchase 
came  also  into  possession  of  the  portage  railroad 
at  The  Dalles  and  Cascades  on  the  Columbia,  which 
gave  it  control  of  nearly  all  the  transportation  facili- 
ties then  existing  in  Oregon  and  Washington  Terri- 
tories. 

Despite  the  liberal  flow  of  money  into  the  bank 
at  the  East,  the  rapidity  with  which  it  was  spent  at 
the  West  found  the  company  embarrassed  as  early  as 
August,  1872.  President  Smith,  who  seems  to  have 
given  the  road  its  first  real  start,  now  resigned.  The 
house  of  Jay  Cooke  and  Company  went  to  the  wall  in 
the  panic  of  1873,  and  in  1875  a  receiver  was  ap- 
pointed for  the  Northern  Pacific  Railroad  Company. 

Jay  C/Ooke  and  Company  had  advanced  to  the  rail- 
road company  a  million  and  a  half  dollars  to  push  con- 
struction, while  the  directors  of  the  road  had  borrowed 
on  their  own  individual  credit  vast  sums  of  money  to 
hurry  on  to  the  Pacific,  and  now  it  all  had  to  stop. 

In  1875  General  George  W.  Cass,  who  wa*  presi- 
dent of  tne  company,  was  appointed  receiver.  The 
winding  up  of  the  business  of  the  bankrupt  road  by 
Judge  Nathaniel  Shipman,  the  shutting  oil  of  lawyers 
who  were  anxious  for  delay,  and  the  shutting  out  of 
the  financial  undertakers,  who  are  always  waiting  about 
to  receive  the  remains  of  a  dead  enterprise,  was  a  big 
piece  of  work  justly  and  ably  performed  by  the  court. 
The  bonds  bought  from  Jay  Cooke  and  Company  were 
converted  into  preferred  stock,  the  thirty-three  million 
dollars  of  debt  wiped  out,  and  the  original  bond- 
holders left  in  possession  of  five  hundred  and  seventy- 


192 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAIJiROAD. 


li  i 


ill    I 


five  miles  of  road  and  ten  million  acres  of  land  free 
of  encuirbrance. 

Mr.  C.  B.  Wright,  who  became  president  of  the 
Northern  Pacific  when  General  Cass  was  appointed 
receiver,  was  succeeded  by  Mr.  Frederick  Billings  in 
1879.  Mr.  Billings  was  able  to  raise  money,  and  the 
work  of  completing  the  road  was  recommenced.  He 
succeeded  in  interesting  Messrs.  Drexel,  Morgan  and 
Company  and  Messrs.  Winslow,  Lanier  and  Company, 
and  through  these  big  firms  secured  the  funds  for  the 
completion  of  the  road  in  1883,  just  about  a  half  cen- 
tury from  the  time  when  the  subject  of  a  Pacific  rail- 
road had  begun  to  be  agitated  in  the  press,  and  thirty 
years  after  the  first  survey  had  been  made. 

In  the  general  shaking  up  of  1873  the  Northern 
Pacific  lost  the  footing  it  had  gained  by  purchasing 
a  controlling  interest  in  the  steamboat  business  on  the 
Columbia.  In  this  way  the  back  door  was  left  open, 
and  a  new  man  slipped  in,  who  was  destined  to  mix 
things  for  Mr.  Billings  and  others  who  had  come  into 
possession  of  the  then  unfinished  railroad. 

This  unknown  man  was  Mr.  Henry  Villard,  a  Ger- 
man-born journalist,  who  developed  into  one  of  the 
great  promoters  of  the  day.  In  the  interest  of  a  syn- 
dicate of  New  York  capitalists,  Mr.  Villard  came  up 
through  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia  for  the  first  time 
in  1874.  Later  he  represented  the  bondholders  o'  the 
Kansas  Pacific,  also  suffering  from  the  short  crops  of 
1873.  In  1876  he  v/as  appointed  one  of  the  receivers 
of  the  Kansas  Pacific,  and  afterward  removed  by  the 
same  court.  Some  of  Mr.  Villard's  friends  have  com- 
plained that  Jay  Gould  wanted  to  run  everything  in 


ree 

the 
ted 
in 
the 
He 
md 

■ny, 
the 
en- 
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rty 

ern 
ing 
the 
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nix 
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e 


THE  NORTHERN  PACIFIC. 


193 


his  own  way  in  the  reorganization  of  the  Kansas  road, 
and  that  he  violated  every  agreement  made  with  the 
original  owners.  As  to  Mr.  Gould's  desire  to  run 
things,  it  might  be  put  down  as  an  interesting  bit  of 
history  that  Mr.  Villard  showed  as  much  ambition  in 
that  direction  as  did  he,  and  almost  as  much  ability. 

Finding  an  open  door,  he  came  into  the  territory 
of  the  Northern  Pacific  and  looked  about.  It  wanted 
but  a  glance  for  a  man  with  such  a  nose  for  business 
to  see  the  possibilities  of  the  Columbia  Eiver  and  of 
Oregon.  He  secured  an  option  on  the  controlling  in- 
terest of  the  navigation  companies,  the  right  of  way 
for  a  railroad  up  the  Columbia  Valley,  and  other  valu- 
able franchises.  He  knew  that  the  original  intention 
of  the  Union  Pacific  Company  had  been  to  drop  a 
line  from  Wyoming  across  laho  into  the  Pacific  at 
Portland,  Ore.,  and  now  he  proposed  to  find  the 
money  for  half  the  road  if  the  Union  Pacific  would 
find  the  other  half,  which  would  give  them,  with  their 
Central  Pacific  connection  at  Ogden,  two  legs  of  a 
"Y,"  with  one  foot  on  San  Francisco  and  the  other 
on  Portland.  The  Union  Pacific  spent  a  few  days 
in  investigating  the  matter;  then  it  declined  the  offer, 
and  spent  a  few  years  in  regretting  it. 

Mr.  Villard  did  not  despair.  He  sought  help  else- 
where, secured  it,  and  in  1879  incorporated  the  Ore- 
gon Eailway  and  Navigation  Company.  The  work  of 
constructing  a  railroad  on  the  south  bank  of  the  beau- 
tiful Columbia  began  the  same  year.  This  was  going 
to  be  a  good  road  to  own  so  long  as  it  had  no  rival, 
but  the  Northern  Pacific  was  liable  to  build  down  the 
north  bank  of  the  Columbia,  and  Mr.  Villard  set  about 


ft 


r 


194 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


to  prevent  the  construction  of  that  line.  He  intro- 
duced himself  to  the  Northern  Pacific  and  asked  for  a 
traffic  arrangement.  Having  induced  the  Northern 
Pacific  to  use  the  Oregon  Hailwjiy  and  Navigation 
Company's  track  to  Portland,  he  eadeavoured  to  se- 
cure an  agreement  to  use  it  for  all  time,  and  a  promise 
that  the  Northern  Pacific  would  not  build  down  the 
Columbia. 

That  was  good  business.  There  is  no  valid  rea- 
son for  building  two  roads  where  the^e  is  a  living  for 
but  one,  but  the  Northern  Pacific  would  not  agree. 
Now  Mr.  Villard  began  to  develop  into  a  promoter. 
It  was  in  1880,  when  money  was  piled  up  ready  to 
be  risked.  He  did  not  tell  even  his  closest  friends 
what  was  in  his  mind.  To  his  business  acquaintances 
in  the  East  he  sent  an  invitation  to  join  him  in  a  new 
company  he  was  about  to  form.  They  were  invited 
to  make  up  a  pot  of  eight  million  dollars  and  ask  no 
questions. 

There  was  a  certain  amount  of  mystery  about  the 
transaction.  Almost  every  one  who  received  this  in- 
vitation to  come  in  on  the  ground  floor  felt  that  he 
had  been  let  into  a  great  secret,  subscribed  and  asked 
for  more  without  knowing  exactly  what  he  was  about. 
The  next  day  Mr.  Villard  ha3  the  money.  Then  he 
called  a  meeting,  explained  his  scheme,  asked  for  twelve 
million  dollars  more,  and  got  them.  When  everything 
had  been  arranged,  the  young  organizer  nipped  enough 
Northern  Pacific  stock  to  put  his  company  in  control 
of  the  road. 

Before  this  Mr.  Villard,  with  a  limited  amount  of 
modesty,  had  asked  for  a  seat  with  the  Northern  Fa- 


THE  NORTHERN  PACIFIC. 


195 


cific  directors,  but  had  failed  to  get  it.  Now  he  strolled 
in,  smiling,  and  rested  his  hand  on  the  back  of  Mr. 
Billings's  chair.  "  Keep  your  seat,  keep  your  seat,"  he 
said,  as  that  gentleman  started  to  rise.  "  Don't  get  up 
on  my  account.  This  is  all  done  in  the  interest  of 
the  Northern  Pacific  llailroad  Company,  and  not  for 
the  benefit  of  the  Oregon  line." 

Now,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  Mr.  Billings  was  really 
anxious  to  give  up  the  presidency  of  the  road,  and 
without  more  ado  he  got  out  of  the  chair.  It  had  all 
come  about  so  swiftly  and  suddenly  that  the  general 
himself  was  surprised.  He  was  not  ready  to  assume 
the  active  management  of  the  property,  and  it  was 
arranged  that  Mr.  A.  H.  Barney  should  take  the  presi- 
dency for  a  year,  when  Mr.  Villard,  to  whom  had  been 
refused  a  seat  on  the  board,  took  his  place  at  the  head 
of  the  table. 

If  Jay  Gould  ever  rounded  up  a  railroad,  corralled 
a  company,  or  roped  and  marked  a  maverick  for  his 
own  more  neatly  or  completely,  his  historians  have 
failed  to  record  the  incident.  The  striking  difference 
between  Mr.  Gould  and  some  of  his  opponents  was  that 
the  former  never  squealed  when  he  happened  to  come 
out  second  best.  The  ultimate  aim  and  ambition  of 
all  the  magnates  was  the  same."** 

Later  the  Oregon  line  became  an  independent  road, 
or  rather  a  system  of  roads.  A  few  years  ago  it  was 
being  operated  as  a  part  of  the  vast  Union  Pacific 
system,  but  was  lost  in  the  break-up  of  1893,  just  as 


*  It  is  not  within  the  province  of  this  book  to  trace  the 
financial  vicissitudes  of  the  Northern  Pacific  within  the  last 
fifteen  years. 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


the  Northern  Paciiic  Company  lost  it  twenty  years  be- 
fore. To-day  it  is  being  operated  as  an  independent 
line.  It  was  from  the  start,  has  remained,  and  is  now 
one  of  the  very  best  pieces  of  railroad  property  in  all 
the  West. 

Millions  of  m(!n  and  women  know  the  beautiful 
river  that  runs  from  Albany  into  the  Atlantic  Ocean. 
The  writer  has  seen  it  from  the  engine  of  the  Em- 
pire State  express  at  a  mile  a  minute,  when  the  oak 
leaves,  turning  with  the  touch  of  Time,  were  all  aflame 
with  the  fire  of  a  dying  day.  And  yet,  watching  from 
the  window  of  a  car  as  it  winds  along  the  banks  of 
the  noblest  river  of  the  Pacific  slope,  in  the  shadows 
of  wild,  native  woods,  hea^  the  splash  and  feeling 
the  spray  of  foaming  falls,  one  is  apt  to  say  that  the 
hills  of  the  Hudson  are  the  banks  of  a  sleepy  canal 
compared  to  the  wild  grandeur  of  the  beautiful  Co- 
lumbia. 


m 


CHAPTER   XVII. 


THE   CANADIAN   PACIFIC. 


Before  the  Canadian  Pacific  Railway,  or  back  of  it, 
there  was  the  beginning,  in  18G7,  of  the  Dominion  of 
Canada,  created  by  the  confederation  of  the  several 
provinces  under  a  general  government.  Before  that  there 
wer^  Indians,  and  back  of  the  Indians  the  mountains, 
lakes,  and  forest;  but  back  of  everything  was  the  Hud- 
son Bay  Company.  That  institution  seems  always  to 
have  been  here.  A  half  hundred  years  ago  its  trappers 
were  found  on  nearly  every  river  that  ran  between 
the  Arctic  Ocean  and  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  The  early 
pathfinders  crossing  the  plains  took  tips  from  these 
men,  and  the  first  overland  caravans  were  often  piloted 
along  the  old  Santa  Fe  trail  by  the  fur-catchers  from 
Canada.  Having  been  here  always,  the  Hudson  Bay 
Company  claimed  the  earth  by  right  of  discovery,  or, 
at  least,  all  of  it  that  lay  between  the  Rocky  Mountains 
and  the  watershed  of  Lake  Superior. 

Now,  the  Canadian  Government,  being  ambitious, 
wanted  a  dominion  washed  by  the  waters  of  the  Pacific 
as  well  as  by  the  Atlantic,  but  before  it  could  hope  to 
have  absolute  empire  "over  all  the  vast  region  that 
reached  from  ocean  to  ocean  it  must  do  away  with  the 
Hudson  Bay  Company,  which  had  a  government  of  its 
own.     The  company  was  disposed  of  by  a  cash  pay- 

197 


I 


198 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


ment  of  a  million  and  a  half  dollars,  the  retention  of 
its  occupied  posts,  and  five  per  cent  of  all  lands  lying 
between  the  Eed  Kiver  Valley  on  the  east  and  the 
Rocky  Mountains  on  the  west,  and  extending  as  far 
north  as  the  great  Saskatchewan.  This  purchase  car- 
ried the  Dominion  of  Canada  to  a  line  marked  by  the 
summit  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  between  the  forty- 
ninth  and  the  fifty-fourth  parallel,  thence  on  the  one 
hundred  and  twentieth  meridian  to  the  sixtieth  paral- 
lel, which  lines  form  the  eastern  boundary  of  the  Pa- 
cific province,  British  Columbia,  north  of  which  the 
Dominion  was  extended  westward  to  the  one  hundred 
and  forty-first  r  meridian  west  of  Greenwich,  which  is 
the  eastern  boundary  of  Alaska  in  that  latitude.  This 
was  one  of  tlie  largest  real  -estate  transactions  on  record. 
In  1871  British  Columbia  entered  the  union,  thus 
extending  the  Dominion  of  Canada  to  the  Pacific 
Ocean.  The  principal  conditi'^n  of  this  union  was 
that  the  Dominion  should  within  ten  years  connect 
by  rail  the  seaboard  of  British  Columbia  with  the  rail- 
road svstem  of  Canada,  construction  to  commence  at 
the  Pacific  coast  in  1873.  Surveys  were  immediately 
commenced  and  prosecuted  for  years,  but  the  work 
of  construction  was  not  begun  until  1875,  and  then 
not  at  the  Pacific  coast,  but  at  the  Lake  Superior 
end.  Work  at  the  coast  was  not  commenced  until 
1879.  Some  of  the  delay  's  accounted  for  by  the  fact 
that  the  records  of  the  first  three  years'  survey  were 
destroyed  by  fire  in  Ottawa  early  in  1874.* 

*  These  facts  and  figures  are  taken  from  a  paper  read  by  Mr. 
Thomas  C.  Keefer,  President  Am.  Soc.  C.  E.,  at  Milwaukee,  in 
1888. 


ill  III 


THE  CANADIAN  PACIFIC. 


199 


The  Parliament  of  Canada  had  decided  in  1872 
that  the  road  should  be  constructed  and  operated  by 
a  private  corporation  subsidized  by  the  Government, 
and  a  contract  was  made  in  that  year  with  the  late 
Sir  Hugh  Allan  for  its  construction  within  ten  years, 
and  its  operation  for  a  similar  period  on  the  basis  of  a 
subsidy  of  thirty  million  dollars  cash  and  fifty  million 
acres  of  land.  Sir  Hugh  controlled  a  transatlantic 
steamship  line,  and  desired  the  railroad  for  inland 
connection.  This  excited  powerful  antagonism,  and 
his  project  was  so  discredited  in  the  money  market 
that  he  failed  to  form  his  company.  The  Government 
also  was  defeated  on  a  question  arising  out  of  this 
contract,  and  retired.  The  new  Government  was 
bound  to  carry  out  the  agreement  with  British  Co- 
lumbia, but,  not  feeling  responsible  for  its  details, 
did  not  regard  time  as  the  essence  of  the  contract, 
and  considered  it  an  impossible  one  in  that  respect, 
especially  after  Sir  Hugh  Allan's  failure.  It  was  de- 
termined, therefore,  in  1874,  to  proceed  with  it  as  a 
public  work,  and  construction  was  commenced  be- 
tween Lake  Superior  and  the  prairie  region  in  the 
following  year.  The  Government  of  1874  was  de- 
feated in  1878,  its  opponents  returning  to  power. 
They,  after  continuing  the  construction  as  a  pub- 
lic work  until  1880,  reverted  to  their  original  policy 
of  construction  by  a  private  company.  The  terms 
of  the  contract  with  this  private  (the  present)  com- 
pany were: 

1.  Twenty-five  million  dollars  cash  and  twenty- 
five  million  acres  of  selected  land  in  the  fertile  belt, 
in  addition  to  the  right  of  way  for  track  and  rtations. 


200 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


shops,  docks,  and  wharves  on  or  through  public  prop- 
erty. 

2.  Free  import  of  all  steel  rails  and  fastenings, 
fence  and  bridge  material  in  wood  or  iron  for  origi- 
nal construction,  and  telegraph  wire  and  instruments 
for  first  equipment. 

3.  The  Government  sections  under  contract — about 
seven  hundred  miles — to  be  completed,  with  stations 
and  water  service,  but  without  rolling  stock,  and 
handed  over  to  the  company  on  the  completion  of 
that  contract  as  a  free  gift.  This  seven  hundred 
miles  of  road  had  cost  the  Government  thirty  million 
dollars. 

4.  Perpetual  exemption  from  taxation  by  the  Fed- 
eral Government. 

5.  No  line  to  be  chartered  south  of  the  Canadian 
Pacific  for  a  period  of  twenty  years,  except  for  a  direc- 
tion southwest  or  west  of  south. 

The  company  bound  itself  to  build  two  thousand 
miles  of  road  and  to  operate  the  transcontinental  line 
for  a  period  of  ten  years.  The  road  when  completed 
was  to  be  as  good  as  the  Union  Pacific  was  found 
to  be  in  1873,  four  years  after  the  last  spike  was 
driven.* 


*  "  "When  the  Canadian  Pacific  was  about  to  be  built,  the 
Dominion  Government,  some  time  in  1873  or  1874,  examined  the 
Union  Pacific  Railroad  carefully,  and,  in  making  its  contract  for 
the  building  of  the  Canadian  Pacific,  used  the  Union  Pacific  as 
its  standard ;  and  there  occurs  a  clause  in  their  contract  which 
provides  that  the  Canadian  Pacific,  when  conpleted,  shall  be 
equal  in  all  its  parts  (in  roadbed,  structures,  alignments,  and 
equipment)  to  the  Union  Pacific  as  found  in  the  year  1874 ;  and 
that  Government  is  now  (1888)  making  a  settlement  with  rts  con- 


THE  CANADIAN  PACIFIC. 


201 


The  capital  stock  of  the  Canadian  Pacific  Company 
was  fixed  at  one  hundred  million  dollars.  Here,  as  in 
the  building  of  other  transcontinental  lines,  great  cal- 
culations were  made  and  vast  sums  of  money  expected 
from  the  sale  of  lands,  but  these  could  not  be  sold  for 
the  simple  reason  that  the  Government  was  giving 
away  land  that  was  just  as  good.  By  the  autumn  of 
1883  sixty-five  million  dollars  of  the  capital  stock  had 
been  sold  and  all  the  money  expended  in  construction. 

Rival  interests  now  assailed  the  road,  aided  by  the 
Government's  political  opponents,  creating  such  dis- 
trust that  the  remainder  of  the  capital  stock  could  not 
be  sold  at  all.  About  this  time  the  Northern  Pacific 
was  in  trouble,  creating  a  bad  state  of  affairs  in  the 
money  market,  and  altogether  the  Canadian  Pacific 
Company  was  in  a  bad  way.  Early  in  1884  the  com- 
pany was  obliged  to  apply  to  the  Dominion  Govern- 
mcTit  for  a  loan  of  $32,500,000.  This  made  a  total 
loan  of  $29,880,000,  to  secure  which  the  Government 
took  a  lien  upon  the  entire  property  of  the  company. 
In  consideration  of  this  loan,  the  company  agreed  to 
complete  the  transcontinental  line  by  May  1,  1886, 
five  years  ahead  of  time. 

The  road  was  now  being  built  at  the  rate  of  nearly 
five  hundred  miles  a  year.  Parts  of  it  were  comparative- 
ly cheap,  others  extremely  expensive.  There  is  one  mile 
of  the  Canadian  Pacific,  along  the  eastern  shore  of 
Lake  Superior,  where  the  rock  work  was  very  heavy, 
that  is  said  to  have  cost  the  company  nearly  three 

tractors,  and  claiming  that  the  Canadian  Pacific  has  not  yet  been 
brought  to  that  standard." — General  Dodge,  Chief  Engineer 
Union  Pacific  Railroad. 


I 


202 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


quarters  of  a  million  dollars  before  the  naked  track 
was  ready  for  a  train  to  pass.  And  so,  with  this  rapid, 
expensive  road  making,  the  company  was  soon  in  finan- 
cial difficulties  again.  Again  it  was  forced  to  turn 
to  the  Government,  which  seems  to  have  stood  loyally 
by  the  road,  no  matter  what  political  fa'^tioii  was  man- 
aging the  public  finances.* 

It  took  a  vast  amount  of  capital,  as  well  as  of  cour- 
age, to  carry  a  main  line  of  railroad  from  Montreal 
to  the  Pacific  through  a  country  that  was  for  the  most 
part  not  settled  at  all.  It  was  like  building  over  the 
American  Desert.  No  man  could  say  what  the  road 
would  cost  in  the  first  place,  and  what  the  cost  of 
keeping  it  open  would  be,  or  give  a  reasonable  guess 
as  to  its  earning  capacity.  The  engineers  had  been 
able  to  make  out  that  there  would  be  a  lot  of  heavy 
rock  work  along  the  lake  region,  "muskege"  ?n  the 
moorlands,  "  gumbo  "  on  the  slopes,  and  snow  on  the 
mountains.  The  passes,  compared  with  other  passes 
in  the  Eockies,  were  surprisingly  low,  but  in  the  North- 
west even  a  low  mountain  can  make  trouble. 

The  Rocky  Mountains  dip  down  as  they  go  north, 
terminating  as  a  distinct  range  near  the  fifty-second 
parallel,  where  they  are  cut  short  by  the  Peace  River, 

*  "  The  Canadian  Pacific  Railway  is  the  work  of  Caiiada  ex- 
clusively. The  road  was  undertaken  by  Canada  as  a  political 
and  commercial  one,  to  fulfil  che  compact  with  British  Columbia, 
and  unite  together  all  the  provinces  of  the  Confederacy,  but 
chiefly  in  order  to  develop  the  vast  estate  purchased  from  the 
Hudson  Bay  Company.  It  has  been  carried  out  by  her  people 
without  any  assistance  from  the  Imperial  Qoyernment — not  even 
the  endorsement  of  Canadian  securities  to  obtain  a  low  rate  of' 
interest." — Thomas  C.  Ebefeb,  Chief  Engineer. 


THE  CANADIAN  PACIFIC. 


203 


a 

a, 
it 
>e 
e 
n 


which  heads  in  behind  them,  draining  the  table-land 
between  the  Coast  Range  and  the  Rockies.  The  Denver 
and  Rio  Grande  and  the  Colorado  Midland  cross  the 
continental  divide  ten  thousand  feet  or  more  above 
the  sea.  The  Union  Pacific  crosses  at  a  little  over 
eight  thousand  feet,  the  Northern  Pacific  at  a  still 
lower  altitude,  while  the  Canadian  Pacific,  the  farthest 
north  of  all  the  transcontinental  lines,  reaches  the 
crest  of  the  continent  only  five  thousand  two  hundred 
and  ninety-six  feet  above  tide  water.  Between  the  in- 
ternational boundary  and  Peace  Rivei  ten  passes  were 
explored  by  the  Canadian  Pacific  engineers,  all  lower- 
ing northward,  from  seven  thousand  to  two  thousand 
feet.  The  range,  which  is  sixty  miles  wide  at  the 
forty-ninth  parallel,  narrows  to  forty  miles  before  it 
reaches  Peace  River,  where  it  practically  pinches  out. 
The  three  mainland  ranges  crossed  by  the  Canadian 
Pacific  are  the  Coast  Range,  the  Gold  Range,  and  the 
Rockies  (whose  rivers  run  down  to  the  Arctic  Ocean 
and  Hudson  Bay  on  the  north  and  east,  and  into  the 
Pacific  on  the  west),  extending  from  the  eastern  slope 
of  the  Rockies  to  the  end  of  the  track  at  Vancouver, 
a  distance  of  five  hundred  and  twenty-two  miles. 

In  Colorado  the  timber  line  is  reached  at  about 
eleven  thousand  feet,  while  in  the  Canadian  Rockies 
nothing  grows  over  seven  thousand  feet  above  tide 
water.  At  six  thousand  feet  snow  falls  in  every  month 
of  the  year  in  the  Northwest,  while  in  Colorado,  Utah, 
or  Nevada  delightful  valleys  lay  six  and  eight  thousand 
feet  above  the  ocean,  bathed  in  almost  perpetual  sun- 
shine in  summer  and  a  great  part  of  the  time  in  winter, 
with  no  snow  between  May  and  October.    That  is  why 


«M 


204 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


the  ranges  in  the  North  were  so  much  dreaded  before 
the  road  was  built.  It  took  years  of  tireless  watching 
and  "  sleeping  out "  on  the  part  of  the  engineers  to 
sohe  the  snow  problem.  They  had  to  get  acquainted 
with  the  country  and  the  avalanche  and  learn  to 
handle  it,  and  at  the  same  time  to  take  care  of  what 
they  call  the  "flurry" — the  local  hurricane  produced 
by  the  passing  of  a  snowslide.  Trees  standing  one 
hundred  yards  clear  of  the  path  of  an  avalanche  have 
teen  clipped  off  short  fifty  feet  above  the  ground. 
Others  even  farther  away  have  had  their  trunks  packed 
full  of  fine  snow,  so  hard  that  a  cat  could  not  scratch 
it.  If  a  slide  struck  a  crag  and  shied  off,  the  "  flurry  " 
kept  straight  aheaJ  over  the  obstruction,  sweeping 
everything  before  it  for  hundreds  of  yards.  A  big 
avalanche — one  travelling  rapidly — accompanied  by  a 
good  "  flurry  "  is  said  to  be  about  the  wildest  thing 
ever  seen  in  the  hills.  To  steer  the  avalanche  away 
from  the  openings  between  sheds,  the  engineers  built 
"  A  "  splits — triangular  pens  filled  with  stone  or  dirt 
— above  the  gap,  which  caused  tl  slide  to  part  and 
pass  on  either  side  and  over  the  tops  of  the  snowsheds, 
which  in  a  slide  country  are  very  substantially  built. 
It  is  an  interesting  fact,  however,  that  there  were  ten 
years  ago  nearly  ten  times  as  many  miles  of  snow- 
sheds  on  the  Central  Pacific,  which  crosses  the  conti- 
nental divide  near  the  forty-second  parallel,  as  there 
were  on  the  Canadian  Pacific*     Probably  no  other 


■*  **  There  are  said  to  be  six  miles  of  staunchly  built  snow- 
sheds  on  the  Canadian  Pacific,  and  sixty  miles  on  the  Centrnl 
Pacific  Railway." — Thomas  Cuetis  Clarke,  The  American  Rail- 
way. 


THE  CANADIAN  PACIFIC. 


205 


railroad  in  the  world  has  a  more  substantial  and  com- 
plete shed  system  than  has  been  here  worked  out  by 
that  eminent  American  manager,  Sir  William  Van 
Horn,  and  his  assistants,  superintendents,  and  en- 
gineers.* 

While  the  climatic  conditions  were  more  or  less 
against  the  builders  of  the  Canadian  Pacific,  the  In- 
dians were  not.  Either  they  had  a  better  breed  of 
Indian  up  North  or  a  better  way  of  handling  him.  At 
all  events,  they  seem  to  have  made  little  or  no  trouble 
for  the  trail  makers.  Only  when  fired  by  a  dash  of 
the  blood  of  the  paleface  or  an  overdose  of  fire-water 
did  her  Majesty's  red  children  make  trouble. 

Infinite  pains  must  have  been  taken  by  the  en- 
gineers who  located  the  line  of  the  Canadian  Pacific. 
The  road  runs  from  Montreal  to  Lake  Superior  with  a 
maximum  grade  in  either  direction  of  one  per  cent 
and  a  minimum  curvature  of  six  degrees.  In  but  one 
place — going  west  from  Lake  Superior — does  the  grade 
exceed  one  per  cent  until  the  Eocky  Mountains  are 
reached.  All  the  gradients  on  the  main  line  that  ex- 
ceed one  per  cent  are  encountered  on  a  stretch  of  one 
hundred  and  thirty-four  miles  between  Bow  Eiver 
in  the  Eockies  and  Illecillewalt,  on  the  western  slope 
of  the  Selkirk  Mountains.  Instead  of  following  the 
Columbia  Eiver  round  a  long,  horseshoe  bend,  the 
road  climbed  over  the  Selkirks,  saving  nearly  a  hun- 
dred miles,  the  short  cut  being  less  than  one  third 
the  distance  travelled  by  the  river.    The  pass  over  the 

*  Sir  William  Van  Horn,  formerly  General  Manager,  and 
now  President  of  the  Canadian  Pacific,  is  an  American  by  birth. 
He  began  as  a  timekeeper  on  the  Illinois  Central. 
15 


I 


206 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


Selkirks,  which  is  only  forty-three  hundred  feet  above 
the  Pacific,  was  discovered  after  months  of  hard  work 
by  ^.lajor  Albert  B.  Rogers,  one  of  the  most  persistent 
and  skilful  of  American  engineers.  It  is  said  to  be  one 
of  the  few  passes  on  this  continent  where  the  locomo- 
tive has  blazed  the  trail  for  the  Indian,  the  scout,  and 
the  prospector. 

The  last  spike  in  the  Canadian  Pacific  was  driven 
in  1885,  but  no  attempt  was  made  to  work  the  trans- 
continental line  during  the  following  winter.  The 
track-laying  had  been  rushed  to  complete  the  line,  and 
now  the  winter  shot  down  and  closed  it.  Engineers, 
provided  with  meteorological  instruments,  snowyhoes, 
and  dog-trains,  stayed  in  the  country  to  get  acquainted 
with  the  "  flurry  "  and  the  slide.  During  the  sum- 
mer of  1886  snowsheds  were  built,  with  troughs  at  the 
tops,  through  which  ran  water  from  adjacent  springs, 
to  be  used  in  case  of  fire,  and  with  "  splits  "  to  protect 
the  open  breathing  spaces  between  the  sheds,  for  long 
sheds  are  dangerous;  they  hold  the  smoke  from  the 
locomotives,  darkening  the  interior,  aiid  hiding  the 
signals  of  trainmen,  as  well  as  making  it  difficult  to 
hear  the  whistle  of  the  engine.  There  is  no  more 
dangerous  place  for  train  and  enginemen  on  the  rail 
than  in  a  long  snowshed  on  a  steep  grade. 

It  is  on  the  slope  of  the  Selkirks  that  the  "  gumbo  " 
is  found.  This  h  a  sandy  loam  quicksand,  which  oozes 
out  of  the  sides  of  the  cuts  and  covers  the  track.  The 
oozing  was  finally  stopped  by  driving  a  double  row 
of  piles  on  either  side  of  the  track  and  filling  the  space 
between  them  with  coarse  gravel  or  broken  rock. 

On  leaving  the  Columbia,  the  line  crosses  the  Gold 


THE  CANADIAN  PACIFIC. 


207 


Eange  through  the  Eagle  Pass,  a  remarkably  favour- 
able one,  the  summit  being  only  eighteen  hundred 
feet  above  tide,  although  in  a  range  with  many  snow- 
capped mountains.  From  the  western  side  of  the  Gold 
Eange  the  line  follows  the  shores  of  lakes  and  rivers, 
which  discharge  into  the  Pacific  Ocean  upon  Canadian 
soil.  In  crossing  the  dry  zone,  or  bunch-grass  grazing 
plateau  of  British  Columbia,  there  is  heavy  work  and 
tunnellirg  along  the  rock-bound  shores  of  the  lakes; 
but  it  is  when  the  line  descends  the  Thompson  and 
Eraser  Rivers,  where  these  cut  through  the  Coast 
Range,  that  the  heaviest  consecutive  hundred  miles 
on  the  whole  route  are  encountered.  This  section, 
built  by  the  Government,  cost  about  ten  million  dol- 
lars, or  eighty  thousand  dollars  per  mile,  without  roll- 
ing stock  or  stations. 

Another  serious  and  unexpected  difficulty  with 
which  the  management  of  the  new  transcontinental 
line  had  to  deal,  after  the  road  was  opened,  was  the 
**  creeping  track."  West  of  Winnipeg,  where  the  road- 
bed is  highly  elastic,  the  track  creeps  with  the  move- 
ment of  a  passing  train.  At  the  bottom  of  a  boggy 
sag,  called  a  "muskeg"  by  the  Indians,  there  is  a 
small  bridge,  and  from  this  bridge  the  track  used  to 
Cicep  east  and  west.  The  difficulty  was  finally  over- 
come by  putting  in  twelve-foot  ties  and  forty-inch 
angle  bars,  with  a  slot  in  alternate  sides  of  the  rails  at 
every  tie  to  hold  them  in  position.  The  following  de- 
scription of  the  action  of  the  "creeping  track"  is 
given  by  Mr.  Whyte,  superintendent  of  the  division: 

"  The  track  would  yield  about  six  inches  to  every 
passing  train.     With  a  heavy  consolidation  engine, 


208 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


hauling  thirty-five  cars,  this  track  crept  twenty-six 
inches  in  the  direction  in  which  the  train  was  moving. 
The  rails  creep  for  about  three  quarters  of  a  mile  east 
and  about  half  a  mile  west  of  a  small  bridge  at  the 
foot  of  a  grade  in  both  directions.  They  creep  with 
every  train,  and  in  warm  weather  will  often  run  twelve 
inches  under  an  ordinary  train.  Track  bolts  break 
almost  daily,  and  repairs  are  to  the  extent  of  a  box 
of  bolts  per  month.  Cinder  ballast  keeps  the  track 
in  line  and  surface  fairly  well,  but  does  not  in  the 
least  prevent  the  creeping  of  the  rails.  Lining  and 
surfacing  are  necessary  at  least  once  a  week.  On  ac- 
count of  the  flanges  on  the  angle  plates,  spikes  must 
be  left  out  of  a  tie  on  each  side  of  these  plates,  other- 
wise the  creeping  rails  would  carry  the  ties  with  them 
and  throw  the  track  out  of  gauge.  Three  trains  run- 
ning in  the  same  direction  are  often  sufficient  to  open 
all  joints  on  one  side  and  close  them  on  the  other  side 
of  the  bridge  between.  The  whole  muskeg,  when  a 
train  is  passing,  shows  a  series  of  short  waves  five  to 
six  inches  deep,  rising  and  falling  with  the  passing 
load,  and  the  rails  can  be  seen  moving  with  the  mov- 
ing train." 

Before  the  Leslies  had  perfected  their  rotary  snow 
excavator,  tlie  danger  of  having  trains  snow-bound 
was  a  source  of  constant  dread  and  uneasiness  to  the 
railroad  officials.  Marshall  Pass,  on  the  Eio  Grande, 
was  once  blocked  for  eight  days  in  the  days  of  the 
pilot  plough.  The  passenger  trains  were  held  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill  on  either  side  of  the  range,  but  in  one 
or  two  cases  enginemen  who  got  separated  from  the 
main  force  actually  suffered  for  want  of  food.    An  en- 


THE  CANADIAN  PACIFIC. 


209 


gineer  and  fireman  undertook  to  fall  down  the  two- 
hundred-and-seventeen-foot  grade,  but  got  stuck  four 
miles  from  the  summit.  Here  they  remained  until 
they  began  to  eat  the  tallow  out  of  the  tallow  pot,  for 
the  storm  that  was  raging  there,  eight  or  ten  thou^^nd 
feet  above  the  sea,  made  it  impossible  for  eHher  to 
venture  out.  On  the  eighth  day  a  successful  attempt 
was  made  to  open  the  roud,  and  the  starved  crew  was 
rescued. 

As  late  as  1890,  in  the  latter  part  of  May,  the 
Union  Pacific  Company  had  a  snow  coi^cest  on  Alpine 
Pass  to  settle  for  all  time  the  question  a&  to  the  best 
snow  machine  to  be  used  on  the  mountains  of  its  sys- 
tem. The  contest,  which  lasted  three  days  and  cost 
the  company  something  over  ten  thousand  dollars, 
was  an  exciting  one,  but  it  was  worth  the  money,  r  id 
settled  the  snowplough  question  not  only  for  the  Union 
Pacific,  but  for  nearly  the  whole  snow  country.* 

In  order  to  reduce  the  danger  of  snow  blockades 
to  a  minimum,  and  to  enable  the  passenger  department 
to  give  assurance  to  prospective  passengers  of  the  ab- 
solute safety  of  the  journey,  Mr.  Van  Horn,  then  the 
general  manager  of  the  company,  caused  a  number  of 
"  caches  "  to  be  made  in  the  mountains,  just  as  the 
voyageurs  of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company,  explorers  and 
hunters,  had  done  in  the  earlier  days.  For  hundreds  of 
miles  no  supplies  could  be  procured  except  by  trains, 
and,  in  view  of  detentions,  each  through  train  from 
Montreal,  in  addition  to  the  dining-car  supplies,  car- 


*  A  full  account  of  this  contest,  under  the  title  of  A  Novel 
Battle,  will  be  found  in  Tales  of  an  Engineer. 


210 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


ried  in  the  baggage  car  an  emergency  box  of  pro- 
visions, to  be  used  exclusively  for  passengers,  and  only 
in  case  of  jaecessity.  Besides  this,  at  nine  points  on 
the  Selkirks  and  Kagle  Pat's,  where  detention  by  snow- 
slides  was  possible,  provision  magazines  were  estab- 
lished in  safe  positions,  at  intervals  of  al)out  ten  or 
twelve  miles,  so  that  no  train  could  be  caught  more 
than  six  miles  from  food.  These  provisions  were  taken 
away  in  the  spring  and  replaced  by  fresh  supplies  in 
the  autumn.  Coal  and  oil  supplies  for  the  passenger 
cars  were  similarly  "  cached,"  and  emergency  fuel  for 
the  locomotives,  bridge  and  track  material  held  loaded 
on  cars,  to  shorten  the  detention  of  trains. 

The  Canadian  Northwest,  however,  first  opened 
and  prepared  for  settlement  by  the  building  of  the 
Canadian  Pacific  Eailway,  is  not  all  avalanche,  "  flur- 
ry," and  glacier.  The  valley  of  the  Red  River  of  the 
North  is  one  of  the  finest  wheat  fields  in  the  world. 
The  r  itinental  line  runs  through  neaily  four  hundred 
miles  of  wheat  land  that  is  better  than  all  the  gold 
lands  of  the  far  Northwest.  One  hears  and  reads  a 
great  deal  about  the  fifty  millions  of  gold  that  the 
Klondike  promises  to  give  up  this  year,  but  nothing 
is  said  of  the  one  hundred  million  bushels  of  wheat 
that  are  now  being  wimpled  by  the  warm  "  chinook  " 
and  bathed  in  the  sun  of  an  eighteen-hour  day.* 

*  "  Another  climatic  feature  peculiar  to  all  high  latitudes, 
which  accounts  for  the  ripening  of  grain  and  vegetables  in  the 
Peace  River  region  and  north  of  the  sixtieth  parallel,  is  the 
greater  length  of  the  day  and  the  greater  amount  of  sunshine, 
the  sun  rising  on  June  21st  at  3.12  a.  m.,  and  setting  at  8.50  p.  M. 
— Dr.  Dawson,  Canadian  Geological  Survey. 


I 


c 
.2 

3     "2 

t   ? 

en        k. 

O       5 
U      PC 

tc  a 

V.        S 

a      V 

t 

o 


51 


THE  CANADIAN  PACIFIC. 


211 


The  explorations  and  surveys  for  the  railroad  had 
made  known  the  character  of  the  country  it  was  to 
traverse.  In  the  wilderness  east,  north,  and  west  of 
Lake  Superior  forests  of  pine  and  other  timber  and 
mineral  deposits  of  incalculable  value  were  iov\d  and 
millions  of  acres  of  agricultural  land  as  w  ?  The 
vast  prairie  district  between  Winnipeg"  and  iLb  i*;icky 
Mountains  proved  to  be  wonderfully  rich  in  agricul- 
tural resources.  Toward  the  mountains  great  coal 
fields  were  discovered,  and  British  Columbia  beyond 
was  known  to  contain  almost  every  element  of  traffic 
and  wealth. 

Finally,  the  forces  working  toward  each  other  met 
at  Craigellachie,  in  Eagle  Pass,  in  the  Gold  or  Colum- 
bia Kange  of  mountainis,  and  there,  on  a  wet  morning, 
the  7th  of  !N'ovember,  1885,  the  last  rail  was  laid  in 
the  main  line  of  the  Canadian  Pacific  Railway. 

The  close  of  1885  found  the  company,  not  yet  five 
years  old,  in  possession  of  no  less  than  four  thou  and 
three  hundred  and  fifteen  miles  of  railroad,  including 
the  longest  continuous  line  in  the  world,  extending  from 
Quebec  and  Montreal  all  the  way  across  the  continent  to 
the  Pacific  Ocean,  a  distance  of  over  three  thousand 
miles,  and  by  the  midsummer  of  1886  all  this  vast  sys- 
tem was  fully  equipped  and  fairly  working  throughout. 
Villages  and  towns,  and  even  cities,  followed  close 
upon  the  heels  of  the  line  builders;  the  forests  were 
cleared  away,  and  the  soil  of  the  prairies  was  turned 
over,  mines  were  opened,  and  even  before  the  last  rail 
was  in  place  the  completed  bccrions  were  carrying  a 
large  and  profitable  traffic.  The  following  years  were 
marked  by  an  enormous  development  of  this  traffic. 


- 

'  \ 

i 

\ 

^  -■. 

■ 

:: 

212 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


by  the  addition  of  many  lines  of  railroad  to  the 
company's  system,  and  by  the  establishment  of  the 
magnificent  steamship  service  to  Japan  and  China. 

But  the  future  of  Canada  and  of  the  Canadian  Pa- 
cific depends  not  upon  the  traffic  of  the  Orient  nor  ^n 
the  gold  of  the  Klondike,  but  upon  the  settlement  and 
development  of  the  great  Northwest;  and  by-and-bye 
men  will  not  say  that  Canada  made  the  railroad,  but 
that  the  railroad  made  Canada. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

ROAD  MAKING   IN   MEXICO. 

Just  as  great  wars  have  developed  great  generals, 
so  has  the  railroad  brought  out  some  remarkable  men! 
There  are  great  road  makers  who  make  roads  all  their 
lives  and  die  in  the  graders'  camp.  Others,  more  versa- 
tile, build  roads  and  then  run  them,  and  in  time  be- 
come great  managers,  for  it  is  well  for  the  president 
to  know  what  is  between  the  ties.  The  home  of  the 
road  maker  is  always  at  the  front.  The  whistle  of  the 
work  engine  echoes  in  a  wilderness. 

Twenty-five  or  thirty  years  ago  a  boy  began  push- 
ing a  truck,  for  fifty  certs  a  day,  on  the  Vermont  Cen^ 
tral  Railroad.  He  kept  the  truck  oiled  and  was  pro- 
moted, but  slowly,  and  he  went  to  California  via  Pana- 
ma. He  worked  all  the  way  from  California  to  Ala- 
bama, and  in  1871  was  station  master  at  Mobile.  Ten 
years  later  he  was  general  superintendent,  resigned, 
and  went  to  Mexico  to  build  the  line  of  the  Santa  Fe' 
system  known  as  the  Sonora  Railway,  and  there  is 
where  this  story  should  begin.    • 

The  Mexican  Government,  for  reasons  which  were 
not  published,  refused  to  allow  the  road  to  be  built 
from  El  Paso  to  tide  water,  but  compelled  the  con- 
tractors to  begin  at  Gua>mas,  halfway  up  the  Gulf 

213 


Ji 


'¥ 


214 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


of  California,  and  build  back.  Everything  had  to  be 
brought  around  Cape  Horn  by  sailing  vessels.  The 
ships  carrying  material  to  the  track  makers  made  one 
round  trip  per  year.  In  order  to  be  sure  of  a  small 
working  force,  the  builder  of  this  sea-fed  railroad 
took  two  hundred  negroes  overland,  and  employed  at 
once  all  the  Indians  and  Mexicans  who  could  be 
persuaded  to  work.  Not  all  the  negroes  had  char- 
acters. Many  of  them  had  two  names  and  a  razor, 
and  when  they  distributed  themselves  among  the  na- 
tives on  the  night  that  followed  pay  day  thought- 
ful men  slept  in  storm  cellars.  Idle  Mexicans,  jealous 
of  the  Americans,  created  or  incited  riot  at  every 
opportunity.  The  Indians  were  Indians,  and,  as 
a  whole,  the  graders  of  the  Sonora  would  rank  with 
the  hardest  working  force  ever  collected  on  the  con- 
tinent. 

The  man  who  undertook  the  construction  of  the 
Sonora  Railway  in  the  face  of  the  most  serious  com- 
plications was  Daniel  Bullard  Eobinson,  whose  first 
promotion  came  as  a  result  of  his  care  for  a  push- 
truck  down  in  Vermont.  Mr.  Eobinson  had  with  him 
one  of  the  most  heroic  as  well  as  most  popular  en- 
gineers ever  employed  in  the  West.  His  name  was 
Morley.  He  was  the  hero  of  that  famous  morning 
ride  from  Pueblo  to  Canon  City,  in  the  fight  for  the 
Royal  Gorge.  His  name  is  on  the  sign-board  above 
the  siacion  halfway  up  the  eastern  slope  to  Raton  Pass. 
All  the  men  who  fought  under,  over,  or  side  by  side 
with  Morley  in  the  great  battle  that  ended  with  the 
opening  of  the  West  speak  ^v^ell  of  him.  Ex-President 
Strong,  of  the  Santa  F^,  speaks  of  him  as  an  affec- 


ROAD  MAKING  IN  MEXICO. 


215 


tionate  father  speaks  of  a  dutiful  son  who  has  lately 
passed  away. 

Not  long  ago  the  writer  asked  Mr.  Kobinson  about 
the  famous  pathfinder.  His  face  showed  instantly  the 
interest  he  felt  in  the  subject.  "  Morley's  head  was 
on  my  shoulder  when  he  was  shot/'  said  the  president 
of  the  'Frisco  line,  watching  the  "  desert "  that  he  had 
helped  to  conquer  slip  away  from  his  private  car. 

"  We  were  travelling  overland  in  a  wagon,"  he 
went  on.  "  We  used  to  make  hundreds  of  miles  in  that 
way,  and,  of  course,  in  that  wild  country,  where  a 
great  majority  of  the  inhabitants  were  opposed  to  new 
things,  we  had  to  look  out  for  ourselves.  There  were 
Indians  always  to  be  guarded  against,  lawless  Mexi- 
cans and  bandits  of  almost  every  shade  and  colour,  so 
for  protection  we  had  our  rifles  within  reach  at  all 
times.  We  had  been  travelling  and  working  almost 
constantly  day  and  night,  and  were  completely  worn 
out.  I  had  leaned  my  head  on  Morley's  shoulder  and 
taken  a  nap.  When  I  awoke  I  complained  about  a 
rifle  that  rested  between  the  two  men  on  the  front 
seat.  The  butt  of  the  gun  was  against  the  dashboard, 
the  muzzle  pointed  at  my  head.  Well,  nobody  paid 
any  attention  to  my  protest.  Morley  said  that  he  would 
go  to  bed,  and,  leaning  his  head  upon  my  shoulder, 
was  soon  sound  asleep.  One  of  the  men  moved,  the 
rifle  was  discharged,  and  the  bullet  went  crashing 
through  the  sleeper's  head." 

Here  Mr.  Eobinson  fished  a  little  brass  cylinder 
from  his  vest  pocket.  "  This,"  he  said,  "  is  the  shell 
that  held  the  cartridge  that  killed  Morley  sixteen  years 
ago." 


I 


216 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


The  wound  was  not  instantly  fatal.  Morley  got 
out  of  the  wagon  and  walked  round  in  front  of  the 
team;  then  gazirg  about  like  a  man  looking  for  a 
place  to  He  down,  he  said,  addressing  his  companions, 
"  Boys,  this  is  hard,"  and  that  was  the  end  of  a  man 
who  wanted  only  the  opportunity  to  become  one  of 
the  nation's  heroes.  It  was  with  a  heavy  heart  that 
his  chief  and  friend  pushed  the  great  work  in  Mexico 
to  completion  after  Morley's  death. 

He  had  begun  this  work  in  1881,  and  in  1883  went 
to  Paso  del  Norte  to  take  charge  of  the  construction 
of  the  Mexican  Central  from  that  point  to  Fresnillo, 
Mexico,  a  stretch  of  seven  hundred  and  fifty  miles. 
It  was  here  that  Mr.  Eobinson  beat  the  world's  record 
in  road  making.  From  one  end,  with  only  the  stakes 
set  to  begin  with,  he  built  five  hundred  and  twenty-five 
miles  of  track  here  in  three  hundred  and  sixty-five 
days,  which,  with  possibly  one  exception,  has  never 
been  equalled  in  any  part  of  America,  and  certainly 
nowhere  except  in  America  would  men  be  in  such  a 
hurry.*  Before  the  entire  line  was  completed,  how- 
ever, this  Napoleon  of  the  construction  camp  was 
called  to  the  capital  to  take  charge  of  the  construc- 
tion of  the  line  that  was  being  built  from  that  end. 
He  was  to  build  north  four  hundred  and  fifty  miles  to 
meet  the  builders  (the  work  he  had  just  left)  coming 
south  seven  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from  El  Paso. 
Here,  as  in  Sonora,  the  constructor  was  at  a  great  dis- 
advantage.   Everything  had  to  be  brought  in  via  Vera 

*  The  Manitoba  system  was  extended  in  1887  through  Dakota 
and  Montana,  545  miles,  between  April  2  and  October  19. — 
Thomas  C.  Clarke,  The  American  Railway , 


ROAD  MAKING  IN  MEXICO. 


217 


Cruz,  just  as  the  material  for  the  Sonora  line  was 
brought  from  New  Ijrk  and  Europe  to  Guaymas,  in 
the  Gulf  of  California.  This  included  everything  used 
in  the  construction  of  the  road,  as  well  as  the  equip- 
ment needed  for  the  work.  Cars  and  locomotives  had 
to  be  brought  in  sections,  shipped  to  the  City  of  Mexico 
over  the  Mexican  Railway,  aad  then  set  up. 

Mr.  Eobinson  found  the  greatest  difficulty  in  teach- 
ing the  natives  how  to  use  the  plough  and  scraper,  the 
standard  tools  of  the  American  road  makers.  They 
could  make  a  hot  tamale  in  an  ice  wagon,  catch  a  run- 
ning horse  by  the  left  hind  foot  without  ever  missing 
it,  but  they  could  not  fill  a  scraper  or  hold  a  plough. 
They  could  not  so  much  as  pilot  a  mule  to  water  along 
a  beaten  trail. 

A  man  can  build  a  railroad  with  red  ants  if  he  has 
enough  of  them  and  can  keep  them  at  it.  Nobody 
knew  this  better  than  Robinson,  and  when  his  hopes 
and  patience  failed  he  piled  the  ploughs  and  scrapers 
in  a  heap,  turned  the  mules  out  on  the  cacti,  and  set 
his  ants  to  work.  They  were  of  all  colours — red,  black, 
and  a  few  white,  but  mostly  yellow.  The  natives  were 
all  right.  Round  and  round,  up  and  down,  to  and  fro 
they  went,  slowly,  to  be  sure,  but  surely,  and  the  grade 
began  to  grow.  Each  man  carried  a  basket  or  bucket, 
filled  it,  climbed  the  dump,  and  emptied  it  at  the  point 
indicated  by  the  dumping  boss.  The  Mexicans  came 
in  great  numbers  now  to  seek  work,  and  they  were 
all  employed.  As  the  days  went  by  the  line  grew 
longer,  and  in  a  little  while  new  lines  had  to  be  formed 
in  new  places.  At  the  end  of  a  week  hundreds  of 
grademakers  were  piling  up  the  gi-ade.    In  less  than  a 


218 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


month  the  line  was  literally  alive  with  these  human 
ants.  Red  ants,  fleece-clad,  from  the  mountains,*  naked 
ants  from  the  Terre  Coliente,  and  black  ants  from 
Sonora,  where  the  road  was  finished,  found  the  work 
and  swelled  the  army. 

It  was  Robinson's  way  never  to  be  beaten.  He  had 
undertaken  to  build  four  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
of  road,  and  to  meet  the  south-bound  builders  at 
that  distance  from  the  capital,  and  he  meant  to 
do  it. 

"How  many  men  have  we  now?"  he  asked  one 
day,  looking  at  the  squirming  mass  of  humanity  that 
covered  the  right  of  way  for  a  mile  or  more. 

"  Fourteen  thousand,"  said  the  boss  of  the  bosses. 

Robinson  gave  a  low  whistle,  but  kept  on  hiring 
men. 

The  average  wages  paid  to  this  bucket  brigade  was 
th:rty-one  cents  a  day.  To  be  sure,  this  half-civilized 
band  would  not  take  cheques;  they  had  to  have  their 
pay  every  Saturday  night  in  the  coin  of  the  country, 
which  was  silver.  The  biggest  piece  of  silver  in  use 
then  was  one  dollar. 

''  We  were  obliged  to  pay  this  army  every  Saturday 
night,"  said  Mr.  Robinson,  "and  it  took  from  five  to 
ten  large  wagons  to  carry  the  silver  from  the  north  of 
the  work  to  the  various  working  camps.  Of  course, 
these  pay-wagons  were  closely  guarded  by  Americans, 
and  it  seems  wonderful  to  relate  now  that  not  a  single 
dollar  was  lost  or  stolen  during  our  entire  period  of 
construction.  I  do  not  think  that  this  would  have 
been  the  case  had  the  same  conditions  existed  in  the 
United  States." 


ROAD  MAKING  IN  MEXICO. 


219 


This  was  probably  owing  as  much  to  lack  of  enter- 
prise as  to  the  "  honesty  "  of  the  outlaws  of  that  repub- 
lic. The  transportation  facilities  were  not  sufficient  to 
tempt  an  enterprising  train  robber. 

Notwithstanding  all  the  disadvantages  under  which 
the  south  end  was  constructed,  Robinson's  army  of  ants 
reached  the  pass  of  the  north  in  time  to  connect  with 
the  rails  that  were  reaching  from  Texas  toward  the 
capital  of  Mexico. 

Upon  the  completion  of  this  second  line  built  by 
him  in  Mexico,  the  general  management  of  the  Atlan- 
tic and  Pacific  Railroad  was  offered  to  Mr.  Robin- 
son, and  accepted  by  him.  A  year  later  he  was  again 
at  the  old  work,  but  this  time  with  burros  and  blasters 
in  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

Mr.  J.  J.  Hagerman,  of  Colorado  Springs,  a  man 
of  great  business  capacity,  commanding  an  unlimited 
amount  of  capital,  had  persuaded  English  investors 
to  join  him  in  building  the  Colorado  Midland  Railway 
— a  foolish  piece  of  road  making,  the  casual  observer 
would  say,  for  it  began  at  a  summer  resort  and  ended 
at  a  flag  station. 

This  was  the  first  standard  gauge  line  to  cross  the 
Rockies  amid  the  eternal  snows,  and  naturally  the  re- 
sourcefal  Robinson  was  asked  to  take  the  job,  and  he 
accepted  it.  There  was  some  wonderful  engineering 
here,  some  expensive  bridging  and  tunnelling.  Hager- 
man Tunnel,  which  pierces  the  range  near  timber  line, 
is  twenty-six  hundred  feet  long,  and  cost  the  tunnel 
company  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars.  The 
locomotives  used  were  of  necessity  heavy  to  climb  the 
heavy  grades.     The  new  grades  gave  way  at  times, 


- 

■t 

k 

k 

220 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  BAILROAD. 


making  funerals  frequent  among  the  enginemen  for 
the  first  year  or  so. 

The  Colorado  Midland  and  the  Denver  and  Rio 
Grande,  which  was  then  building  its  standard  line  via 
Leadville,  ran  together  at  Glenwood  Springs  on  the 
Pacific  slope.  Tlie  canon  was  narrow  there.  There 
was  scarcely  room  for  two,  so  the  two  roads  combined 
and  built  what  was  called  the  Rio  Grande  Junction 
Railroad  from  that  point  to  Grand  Junction,  where 
both  connected  with  the  Rio  Grande  Western  for  Salt 
Lake  and  the  Pacific  coast. 

The  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  managed  to  control 
the  con p^ ruction,  and,  as  it  was  then  handling  all  the 
transmo  atain  traffic  through  Colorado,  it  was  in  no 
hurry  to  complete  the  new  line  and  divide  business 
with  an  unwelcome  competitor.  The  work  dragged. 
The  Midland  people  protested,  but  there  seemed  to  be 
no  help  for  it.  Material  intended  .for  the  joint  road, 
but  still  the  property  of  the  narrow  gauge,  would  dis- 
appear at  the  moment  when  the  contractors  were  ready 
to  put  it  in  place.  A  large  shipment  of  steel  foi*  the 
new  line  was  lost.  After  weeks  of  "tracing,"  it  was 
finally  located  on  the  Denver  division  of  the  Rio 
Grande,  where  Superintendent  Deuel  had  spiked  it 
down  for  the  new  heavy  equipment  of  the  road,  which 
was  about  to  widen  out  to  a  standard  gauge. 

In  time,  however,  the  standard  gauge  was  com- 
pleted; the  Rio  Grande  Western  had  already  been 
widened,  and  the  Colorado  Midland  began  to  figure  in 
transcontinental  business,  exchanging  at  Colorado 
Springs  with  the  Chicago,  Rock  Island  and  Paf  Ific, 
and  at  Grand  Junction  with  the  Rio  Grande  Western. 


ROAD  MAKING  IN  MEXICO. 


221 


A  few  years  later  the  new  road,  wluch  must  have  been 
built  to  sell,  was  absorbed  by  the  Santa  h\i.  In  the 
general  shaking  i  p  during  the  panicky  days  of  the 
'90s  the  Santa  Fe  lost  it,  and  just  now  Judge  Philips, 
of  the  United  States  Court  of  Appeals,  is  writing  an 
opinion  in  the  suit  brought  by  the  tunnel  company  to 
compel  the  Midland  Company  to  use  its  hole  in  the 
ground  at  Hagerman  Pass,  which  the  reorganization 
company  has  refused  iu  do. 

After  completing  the  Colorado  Midland,  Mr.  Rob- 
inson became  president  of  the  San  Antonio  and  Arkan- 
sas Pass  Railroad.  Two  years  later  he  went  to  the 
Santa  Fe  as  vice-president  of  that  great  system.  In 
1896  he  became  president  of  the  St.  Louis  and  San 
Francisco  Railroad,  with  headquarters  at  St.  Louis, 
where  he  now  resides,  still  in  the  prime  of  life.  I'he 
doors  of  his  office  and  his  private  car  are  unlocked 
when  he  is  there.  He  is  extremely  modest  and  gener- 
ous, but  a  Napoleon  in  the  managen^ent  of  men.  Look- 
ing at  the  man  to-day,  one  woul^  never  guess  that  he 
had  spent  the  best  years  of  his  life  in  the  rough  and 
riot  of  the  uncurried  West. 

Pick  up  a  pebble  at  the  mouth  of  a  mountain  stream 
and  note  its  perfect  polish.  That  comes  from  count- 
less knocks  and  tumbles  in  the  turbulent  rill  that  has 
carried  it  along,  and  finally  landed  it  on  the  shore 
of  the  broad,  calin  river. 


16 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


THE    OPENING   OF   OKLAHOMA. 


If  all  the  other  hooms  that  have  passed  over  the 
West  could  be  collected  and  concentrated  into  one  big 
boom,  it  would  look  like  the  opening  of  Oklahoma. 
Hundreds  of  gifted  writers  have  attempted  to  paint  a 
pen-picture  of  that  wild  time  and  have  failed,  and 
here  will  be  another  failure. 

Oklahoma  was  opene'd  for  settlement  on  April  22, 
1889.  This  territory  was  about  ninety  miles  long  from 
north  to  south  and  sixty  miles  wide  from  east  to  west, 
extending  from  the  north  bank  of  the  South  Canadian 
Eiver  northward  to  a  point  about  five  miles  south  of 
the  present  town  of  Perry.  The  history  of  the  many 
attempts  made  to  place  this  land  on  the  market  is  re- 
markable. For  a  number  of  years  Sidney  Clark,  Payne, 
and  others  had  laboured  to  secure  that  end.  During 
the  winter  of  1888-'89,  when  it  became  reasonably  cer- 
tain that  a  date  would  soon  be  set  for  the  opening, 
people  began  to  gather  from  all  over  the  United  States, 
and  when  the  date  was  named,  about  April  1st,  they 
came  with  a  rush.  All  winter  long  the  United  States 
Government  kept  a  guard  and  tried  to  keep  out  in- 
truders, commonly  called  "  sooners,"  but  nearly  all  of 
the  professional  land  grabbers  made  frequent  trips 

and  spied  out  the  land  pretty  thoroughly  before  the 
222 


THE  OPENING  OP  OKLAHOMA. 


223 


opening,  so  that  they  would  know  where  to  go 
for  the  best  lands.  A  few  days  before  the  opening 
troops  scoured  the  country  and  beat  every  bush  to 
make  a  clean  sweep,  but,  notwithstanding  this,  many 
men  hid  in  the  hollows  and  secure  places,  ready  to 
grab  the  coveted  claim  at  noon  on  the  2!2d.  Very  few 
attempts  were  made  to  enter  from  east  or  west.  The 
Government  refused  to  allow  the  people  to  remain  on 
the  Cherokee  Strip,  a  body  of  land  sixty-five  miles 
wide,  extending  all  along  the  Kansas  line,  so  those 
from  the  north  gathered  mainly  at  Arkansas  City,  a 
few  thousand  at  Hunnewell  and  Caldwell,  and  about 
five  thousand  at  Purcell,  on  the  south. 

Every  good  saddle  horse  commanded  a  high  price. 
Racing  stock  sold  for  two  or  three  hundred  dollars  a 
head.  Most  of  the  runs  on  horseback  and  by  teams 
were  made  from  the  south,  as  no  horse  or  team  could 
traverse  the  Cherokee  Strip  as  quickly  as  the  train. 
Everybody  entered  from  the  north  via  the  Santa  F6 
and   Rock   Island  Railroads,   except,   of   course,   the 


"  sooners." 


No  conception  could  be  formed  of  the  number  of 
people  that  were  to  be  handled  by  train.  Assistant- 
General-Superintendent  Turner,  of  the  Santa  Fe,  who 
was  in  charge  of  that  territory,  estimated  that  the  com- 
pany would  handle  ten  thousand  people  out  of  Arkan- 
sas City  and  two  thousand  out  of  Purcell.  Thousands 
of  gaunt-faced  men  haunted  the  yards  day  and  night, 
trying  in  every  way  to  buy  information  or  bribe  the 
railroad  eniployees  into  smuggling  them  into  "  the  first 
train."  Unscrupulous  confidence  men,  dressed  like 
switchmen,  sold  "  tips  "  to  tenderfeet,  and  at  one  time 


224 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


the  detectives  employed  by  the  railroad  coropary  found 
a  "  Beauro  of  Information "  running  "  wide  open/' 
where  inside  intelligence  was  sold  like  liquor,  pro- 
ducing equally  bad  results.  Men,  made  drunk  by  think- 
ing upon  a  single  subject,  forgot  that  all  men  were. not 
for  sale,  and  openly  offered  the  railroad  employees  fifty, 
a  hundred,  and  sometimes  a  thousand  dollars  for  the 
faintest  hint  as  to  which  train  would  be  the  first  to 
leave. 

Newspaper  correspondents  were  at  first  almost  as 
eager  for  information,  +hough  noi,  bidding  quite  so 
liberally.  To  quiet  the  reporters.  Superintendent 
Turner  gave  each  a  card  signed  with  his  initials,  and 
told  them  to  keep  still  until  they  were  ordered  to  get 
aboard.  If  their  car  appeared  to  be  at  the  end  of  the 
last  train,  they  were  to  say  nothing.  In  short,  they  were 
to  leave  everything  to  the  management,  and  they  did. 

Seeing  the  greit  temptation  to  which  the  men  were 
being  exposed,  the  railroad  officials  called  the  con- 
ductors and  engineers  together  and  made  it  plain  to 
them  that  the  well-known  rules  of  running  men  "  first 
in,  first  out,"  would  be  off  for  that  day.  They  would 
all  make  a  trip,  and  as  nearly  as  possible  in  the  proper 
order,  but  no  man  could  say  with  any  degree  of  cer- 
tainty whether  he  would  be  first  out  or  last.  All  the 
trains  would  leave  and  all  would  arrive  within  the 
space  of  an  hour  or  a  little  more,  and  as  all  employees 
would  be  expected  to  remain  on  duty  at  the  end  of  the 
run,  it  could  make  no  great  difference  how  the  men 
went  out.  After  that  the  train  and  enginemen  could 
say  frankly  that  they  knew  nothing  about  the  make- 
up of  the  trains. 


THE  OPENING  OP  OKLAHOMA. 


225 


It  is  to  the  credit  of  the  employees,  in  view  of  the 
great  temptation,  that  no  complaints  were  ever  made 
that  the  men  had  sold  information  that  was  false,  or 
that  they  had  sold  any  information  at  all. 

As  the  hour  drew  near  for  the  departure  of  the 
first  train  the  scene  was  indescribable.  Thousands 
upon  thousands  of  men  tipped  their  pale,  anxious  faces 
back  and  peered  with  wild,  v»ide  eyes  at  the  driver  of 
an  er  .  le  that  came  slowly  into  the  yard.  If  the  loco- 
mot"  y  touched  a  train  or  a  car,  instantly  a  thousand 
men  were  on  board,  with  hundreds  hanging  on  the 
steps  and  clinging  to  the  windows.  Hundreds  of  these 
"  homesick "  people  had  not  slept  for  nights  or 
stopped  to  eat  a  good  meal  for  days.  Presently  a  yard 
man  would  cut  the  engine  off,  and  as  it  moved  slowly 
awa}'-,  parting  the  multitude  with  its  pilot,  the  train 
would  give  up  its  humaa  frdglit. 

After  m'lch  unnecessary  switching,  the  trains  were 
all  made  v^  and  the  engines  began  to  be  coupled  on; 
but  when  a  train  appeared  to  be  overloaded,  the  loco- 
motive would  be  detached,  the  switchman  lectured  for 
having  coupled  the  wrong  engine,  and  then  the  mob 
would  fall  off.  When  the  officials  had  jockeyed  in  this 
way  until  no  man  could  form  any  opinion  as  to  which 
train  would  leave  first,  what  appeared  to  be  the  last 
train  pulled  out  with  lot  less  than  a  thousand  men  and 
a  few  women  on  board. 

The  ten  trains  were  run  from  Arkansas  City, 
the  first  one  starting  at  nine  o'clock,  so  as  to  reach  the 
north  line. of  the  Oklahoma  country  at  twelve  o'clock 
noon.  It  was  followed  by  the  nine  other  trains  at  in- 
tervals of  ten  minutes.     Each  train  consisted  of  ten 


i 
it  <i 


22^ 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


cars;  no  car  was  loaded  with  less  than  one  hundred 
people,  and  occasionally  contained  one  hundred  and 
fifteen.  Ten  thousand  and  six  hundred  tickets  were 
sold  from  Arkansas  City.  No  reduced  rates  were  made, 
as  the  Santa  Fe  controlled  the  business.  The  first  car 
on  the  first  trair.  was  a  fefggage  car,  in  which  were 
placed  seventy-three  newspaper  men,  representing  the 
leading  papers  of  the  United  States  and  some  corre- 
spondents from  Europe.  There  was  intense  interest  all 
over  the  worlr',  because  this  was  the  largest  territory 
that  was  ever  thrown  open  for  settlement  in  an  hour. 

Probably  fivi'  thousand  people,  seeing  the  great  mul- 
titude swarming  about  the  train  like  red  ants  at  the 
opening  of  a  .'ailstorm,  turned  away.  Hundreds  of 
people  there  would  unquestionably  have  passed  else- 
where as  lunatics.  As  often  as  a  train  started  to  pull 
out,  lopd'^d  to  the  roof,  hundreds  of  men  would  leave 
a  reasonably  safe  place  on  another  train  to  race  after 
the  already  overloaded  one  that  was  leaving.  Often 
when  these  excitable  voyagers  returned  they  would  find 
the  place  the}-  had  quitted  occupied  by  another.  And 
so  t}\2  mad  rush  went  on  until  the  last  train  had  pulled 
out,  leaving  thousands  of  people  behind. 

The  first  train  arrived  at  the  line  five  minutes 
before  n^jon,  waiting  for  the  notice  to  start,  which  was 
a  rifie  shot  fired  by  the  officer  in  command  of  the 
troops  guarding  the  gateway.  When  the  first  train 
had  run  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  a  young  woman 
crawled  through  a  coach  window  and  dropped  to  the 
ground,  but  immediately  Jumped  to  her  feet,  unhurt, 
ran  a  short  distance  to  clear  the  right  of  way,  and 
drove  her  stake,  making  the  first  claim.    After  that, 


I 


THE  OPENING  OF  OKLAHOMA. 


227 


on  every  hill,  where  the  speed  of  the  train  was  re- 
duced, people  dropped  off  as  a  good  claim  caught  their 
eye.  The  settlers  on  later  trains  did  the  same,  and 
many  a  conflict  arose,  in  which  the  weaker  party  was 
compelled  to  go  farth  r  away  from  the  railroad  to  look 
for  another  claim.  All  the  trains  ran  to  Guthrie, 
which  was  the  centre  of  the  excitement,  as  it  was  ex- 
pected that  the  Capitol  would  be  located  there.  The 
ten  trains  made  an  exciting  jam,  and  a  city  without 
a  board  or  a  nail  was  planned  in  an  hour.  People  lo- 
cated in  streets  without  any  regularity,  which  caused 
hundreds  of  lawsuits  and  fights  later  on. 

There  was  such  a  mob  at  Purcell  that  the  general 
superintendent  who  was  handling  the  movement  from 
t-iat  end  concluded  that  it  would  not  be  safe  to  try 
to  run  two  trains.  So  he  coupled  all  the  coaches — 
twenty-two — in  one  train,  using  two  locomotives,  and 
brought  out  twenty-five  hundred  people,  the  train 
being  literally  covered,  men  even  hanging  on  truss- 
rods  and  outside  of  windows.  The  roofs  of  the  cars 
were  black  with  people.  Half  of  them  dropped  off  at 
Oklahoma  City.  There  wer'  only  about  eleven  thou- 
sand good  claims  of  one  hundred  and  sixty  acres  each 
in  the  territory.  It  is  presumed  that  every  one  of 
these  was  occupied  before  3  p.  m.,  and  that  thirty  thou- 
sand people  were  in  the  territory  before  night. 

The  signal  for  the  start  had  been  given  by  officers 
of  the  United  States  army  stationed  at  intervals  along 
the  border  of  the  promised  land.  Where  there  were 
cannon,  cannon  boomed  out  the  signal,  but  at  most 
places  a  shot  from  a  rifle  or  a  pistol  told  the  waiting 
multitude  that  it  was  time  to  go. 


■ 


228 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


i 


A  party  of  railroad  and  Government  officials  had 
gone  in  on  a  special  train,  and  stood  in  the  silent 
waste  Waiting  for  the  signal.  Out  over  the  rolling 
plain  they  looked  and  saw  no  living  thing.  It  seemed 
incredible  that  a  city  was  to  be  born  there  and  a  grave- 
yard started  within  the  next  one  hundred  and  twenty 
minutes.  "  Time!  "  said  one  of  the  officials,  snapping 
his  watch,  and  from  afar  over  the  billowed  plain  came 
the  low  boom  of  a  cannon,  and  instantly  a  man  sprang 
from  the  ground  not  a  thousand  yards  away.  Wherever 
the  men  on  the  special  looked,  men  could  be  seen 
springing  from  the  very  earth.  Some  were  running 
this  way  and  some  that  way,  while  others,  kneeling 
in  the  native  gr^"       rove  a  stake  to  mark  a  home. 

A  few  minuvvo  later  could  be  seen  the  smoke  of 
the  first  section  hurrying  to  the  end  of  the  track. 
When  the  train  stopped,  a  man,  running  with  all  his 
might,  saw  Lawyer  Quinton,  of  Topeka,  standing  alone 
near  the  special  train,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 
Now  a  man  who  could  stand  perfectly  still  at  such  a 
moment  was  a  man  to  be  trusted;  so  the  newcomer, 
still  running,  threw  a  hand-satchel  at  the  lawyer, 
shouting,  "  Keep  my  grip! "  and  fell  upon  a  comer 
lot.  Another  man,  seeing  all  this,  turned  and  dropped 
his  bundle  at  the  lawyer's  feet  just  as  a  fat  grip  hit 
that  gentleman  in  the  spine.  It  was  easy  ^o  follow 
the  drift  of  things  now.  Those  who  ran  could  read 
that  the  lawyer  was  a  check  stand,  a  baggage  room,  a 
public  warehouse  pro  hono  publico.  In  less  than  three 
roinutetj  he  had  three  hundred  pieces  of  baggage,  all 
of  which  had  come  to  hin  "'^  er^^atness  comes  to  some 
men.    iia  the  last  tr-b  ptuppvrd,  .Jr.  Quinton  strug- 


THE  OPENING  OF  OKLAHOMA. 


229 


gled  out  over  the  wall  of  grips  and  bundles  that  peo- 
ple had  left  in  his  care  as  they  hurried  on  to  a  new 
home.  Thousands  upon  thousands  of  pieces  of  bag- 
gage lay  there  unmarked,  and  some  of  it  was  never 
claimed,  for  the  owners  had  gone  to  help  people  the 
new  graveyard. 

The  next  problem  was  that  of  feeding  this  vast 
crowd,  which  took  with  it  nothing  but  a  sandwich,  and 
a  stake  to  mark  its  claims;  and  after  that  came  the 
problem  of  getting  it  material  for  shelter.  At  this 
time  the  road  had  a  stock  rush.  Pasture  cattle  were 
going  from  the  south  at  the  rate  of  ten  to  twenty  trains 
a  day.  The  stations  were  few  and  far  between,  with 
limited  side-track  capacity.  There  was  but  one  tele- 
graph wire,  and  freight  of  all  descriptions  lined  every 
side  track  from  Arkansas  City  to  the  Missouri  River. 
The  first  day  they  moved  nothing  but  food;  the  next 
day  food  und  material  for  shelter.  After  that  it  was 
a  scramble.  Everybody  was  clamouring  for  his  freight, 
and  great  care  was  necessary  to  see  that  each  town  got 
its  share  of  food  to  keep  the  people  from  starving. 
Every  man  that  got  a  good  claim  telegraphed  his  peo- 
ple in  the  East.  Enough  messages  were  filed  to  keep 
ten  wires  busy.  Hundreds  of  people  left  that  night 
on  returning  trains,  either  disgusted  because  they  had 
no  section,  or  to  go  after  their  goods  and  family  if 
they  had  secured  a  claim. 

The  event  was  unique,  and  unparalleled  by  any 
previous  event  of  the  kind.  It  was  a  perfect  day.  The 
grass  was  green,  the  trees  in  leaf,  and  as  most  of  the 
people  were  from  the  North,  and  East,  and  had  just 
left  cold  weather,  the  appearance  of  the  land  seemed 


8«    ■'; 


230 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  EAILROAD. 


to  them  to  justify  the  name,  "  The  beautiful  Indian 
Territory." 

In  September,  1893,  the  Cherokee  Strip  was 
opened,  probably  with  nearly  as  big  a  crowd  and  a 
more  exciting  race  from  the  north  line,  because  it  was 
sixty  miles  long,  and  the  race  was  mostly  on  horseback 
and  by  team,  but  many  of  the  people  had  had  previous 
experience  at  the  Oklahoma  opening,  and  were  better 
prepared. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  enthusiasm  and  the 
longing  expectation  that  seemed  to  govern  almost 
everybody.  Mrmy  of  the  railroad  employees  were  half 
crazy  to  secure  claims,  and  in  one  instance  a  freight 
train  was  abandoned  on  the  main  track  between  sta- 
tions by  every  employee  except  the  fireman.  Other 
trains  were  abandoned  at  stations  by  half  their  crews. 
For  days  before  the  opening  men  sneaked  in  on  freight 
trains  or  paid  their  fares  through  the  territory  on 
passenger  trains,  and  dropped  off  while  the  trains 
stopped  at  water  tanks,  only  to  be  run  out  by  the  of- 
ficers or  Indian  scouts  employed  by  the  Government 
for  that  purpose.  In  most  cases  the  scouts  stripped 
them  of  their  arms  and  food,  compelling  them  to  leave 
at  once. 


mmmmmm 


f 


I 


Aki 


In  tho  mountains. 
(A  phase  of  the  engineer's  caflon  work.) 


CHAPTER   XX. 

THE     RAILROAD     ENGINEER:     A     FEW     ILLUSTRATIONS 
SHOWING   HO       HE  HANDLES  THINGS. 


A  MAN  with  one  leg  over  a  fence  ligtening  for  a 
dog — that's  the  engineer.  He  wants  to  locate  the  line 
across  the  farmer's  field,  but  he  does  not  know  how 
the  farmer  and  the  dog  are  going  to  take  it.  When 
night  comes  on  the  pathfinder  will  sleep  where  his 
path  pinches  out,  and  he  will  not  be  welcome. 

When  he  has  passed  out  of  hearing  of  the  school 
bell  and  the  bulldog,  wild  animals  and  Indians  will 
block  his  trail,  for  there  is  no  civilization  beyond  the 
end  of  the  track.  All  the  way  from  the  Atlantic  to 
the  Pacific  he  nas  been  forced  to  fight,  leaving  along 
IiIn  n<'w-made  trail  h(?aps  of  bleaching  bones  that  tell 
of  his  triuls,  mid  niurveilous  feats  of  engineering  that 
fipeajj  of  Ills  skill. 

We  have  seen  him  climbing  nioiintains  over  rog- 
Wttys  and  switdibiK^kl.  (^ftught  in  a  rising  canon,  he 
doubles  his  trail,  "  loops  "  his  line,  and  goes  ahead 
again.  When  a  narrow  pass  pinches  out,  he  clifnb*  to 
the  top  of  the  canon  wall,  lets  himself  down  by  means 
of  a  bihg  lope,  and  writes  on  a  rock  what  he  would 
put  on  a  stake  if  he  were  able  to  drive  one.  We  have 
seen  him  in  a  narrow  gorge  iiangjng  between  the 

m 


232 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


granite  walls  an  iron  frame  made  thousands  of  miles 
away. 

Bestriding  the  stream,  he  bridges  it  lengthwise,  and 
the  train  above  drowns  the  roar  of  the  river.  By 
turning  this  way  or  that,  he  saves  his  company  hun- 
dreds or  thousands  of  dollars.  All  the  money  put  into 
a  new  enterprise  is  at  his  mercy,  and  upon  his  judg- 
ment alone  the  success  of  a  great  undertaking  off  on 
depends.  If  a  tunnel  is  to  be  driven,  it  is  his  business 
to  find  the  softest*  possible  place  in  the  mountain. 
He  is  expected  to  know  not  only  the  things  on  the 
earth,  but  to  give  pretty  good  guesses  as  to  the  things 
that  are  under  it.  If  he  orders  piling  to  be  driven 
in  a  stream,  the  road  builders  are  reasonably  sure  that 
the  waters  of  that  river  are  not  washing  the  bedrock. 
If  a  corporation  could  be  said  to  possess  a  conscience, 
it  would  be  the  chief  engineer.  He  holds  the  secrets 
of  the  company,  and  he  will  not  tell.  Without  appear- 
ing to  want  it,  he  obtains  all  the  information  obtain- 
able, and  goes  his  way.  He  asks  few  questions;  a 
great  deal  of  his  education  comes  to  him  by  absorp- 
tion. He  will  sit  up  all  night  and  listen  to  the  stones 
and  experiences  of  an  old,  illiterate  mountaineer,  but 
he  wants  no  advice  from  a  man  who  can  read.  It  is 
not  fine  theories  he  is  looking  for,  but  facts,  the  things 
men  learn  from  the  hills.  If  he  finds  it  hard  to  de- 
termine whether  a  certain  gulch  ought  to  be  bridged 
or  filled,  he  consults  a  cowboy,  a  scout,  or  a  squaw. 
He  is  modest,  retiring,  almost  to  the  point  of  be^rtg 
unsociable.  He  is  always  in  earnest.  Sometimes  Lie 
will  jest  "and  joke,  and  if  he  h  ippens  to  be  Irish,  which 
is  not  often  the  case,  he  will  tell  a  story,  for  the  Irish 


THE  RAILROAD  ENGINEER. 


233 


are  the  mirth-makers  of  the  rail.  There  is  an  Irish- 
man in  eight  out  of  ten  stories  you  hear  on  the  roiiJ.* 
The  lailroad  engineer  is  never  finical.  He  rises 
fresh  and  hungry  from  his  bed  in  the  desert,  eats  his 
bacon  and  bread,  washes  it  down  with  black  coffee, 
and  makes  an  even  start  with  tlic  sun.  If  need  be, 
he  sleeps  in  a  wagon,  on  the  ba  k  of  a  mule,  or  goes 
without  sleep.  If  an  importai  t  puss  is  to  be  taken 
and  held  against  a  rival  company,  he  Iflys  down  his 
line  and  his  life,  and  you  can  not  take  the  one  without 
taking  the  other.    His  honour,  his  loyalty — his  life,  if 


*  Here  are  two  sample  stories  that  oriefinated  with  the  Irish: 

A  big  boulder  dropped  i  ito  the  Black  Caflon,  cut  the  107  from 
her  train,  and  put  her  and  her  driver,  Tom  Ryan,  to  the  bottom 
of  the  Gunnisnn  River.  Rickey,  the  roadmastor,  jumped  fr^m 
the  train,  ran  down  to  tlio  water's  edge,  and  fished  Ryan  out. 
"Tom,"  cried  fMckey  hysterically,  "are  yez  hurttedf  Oh,  spake 
to  me,  Tommy,  spake  ! " 

"  Now,  phwy  the  divil  should  I  be  hurtted  ?  "  was  the  response 
from  the  dripping  driver. 

"  Thot's  so,"  said  the  roadmaster,  turning  away  in  disgust ; 
"  I  wonder  ye  got  wetted." 

One  sultry  midsummer  day,  when  the  hot  winds  were  sighing 
and  the  weeds  were  dying  on  the  Western  plains,  the  general 
superintendent  of  the  Santa  F6  and  his  assistant  were  inspecting 
track  from  the  rear  of  a  private  car.  Between  the  two  general 
officers  sat  the  ruddy  roadmaster,  twirling  his  thumbs  and  sing- 
ing softly  to  himself,  "Jerrie,  go  ile  th'  kayre."  The  very  sight 
of  the  man,  perfectly  healthy  and  happy,  was  irritating  to  the 
sneezing  officials,  who  were  watching  the  receding  rails  over  their 
handkerchiefs. 

"  Say,  Moriarity,"  one  of  them  asked,"  did  you  ever  have  hay 
fever  1" 

"  No,"  said  Mory ;  "  me  rank  isn't  high  enough." 


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234 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


need  be — 's  pledged  to  his  employer.  He  takes  himself 
seriously,  never  underestimating  the  importance  of  his 
Avork. 

You  will  see  him  on  the  banks  of  a  swollen  river 
that  threatens  the  right  of  way,  weaving  stout  willows 
into  a  great  carpet,  sinking  it  in  the  stream,  risking 
his  life,  but  saving  the  roadbed.  If  the  current  is  too 
swift  and  deep  to  do  this,  he  will  make  an  immense 
seine  of  heavy  woven  wire,  spread  it  along  the  margin 
of  the  ri\er,  and  wait  patiently  for  the  water  to  under- 
mine the  net,  which  falls  over  the  crumbling  bank 
and  stops  the  wash. 

The  chief  engineer  knows  more  men  who  do  not 
work  for  the  company,  and  fewer  who  do,  than  any 
other  general  officer  on  the  road.  If  he  thinks  he  is 
right,  he  will  fight  or  quit,  but  he  hates  to  compro- 
mise. He  dislikes  to  move  a  stake  when  it  has  been 
driven  to  stay.  Once,  when  the  presont  chief  en- 
gineer of  one  of  the  Western  roads  was  locating  a  line 
in  Missouri,  he  was  asked  to  change  the  stakes,  and 
refused.  The  proposed  road  at  this  point  lay  across 
a  meadow,  passed  up  by  an  old  orchard,  and  from  there 
gained  the  summit  of  a  long,  low  ridge.  The  stretch 
across  the  meadow  was  a  charming  bit  of  roadway,  giv- 
ing the  future  engine  driver  a  long  tangent  and  a  good 
run  for  the  hill.  When  the  stai  3S  had  all  been  set 
a  young,  unshaved  man  came  out  and  asked  that 
the  road  be  "  moved  over  a  piece."  The  engineer 
explained  that  it  wov.ld  be  impossible,  as  that  was 
the  best  point  to  pass  over  the  ridge.  The  man  in- 
sisted, and  finally  the  engineer  would  not  discuss  the 
matter,  explaining  that  the  company  would  indemnify 


THE  RAILROAD  ENGINEER. 


235 


the  owners  of  the  property  when  the  proper  time 
came. 

The  man  went  back  into  the  house,  got  an  old 
squirrel  rifle,  came  out,  and  pulled  up  the  stakes.  The 
engineer  started  back  to  remonstrate,  but  at  that  mo- 
ment the  young  man's  mottier  saw  what  was  about 
to  take  place,  and  hastened  to  meet  the  engineei". 

"  Can't  you  move  your  road  over  a  little  piece, 
mister?'^  she  asked. 

"  I  don't  see  why  I  should.  If  you  feel  aggrieved, 
the  company  will  pay  you  what  is  right;  my  business 
is  to  locate  the  line,"  said  the  engineer,  glancing  an- 
grily up  tlie  slope  where  a  lean  young  farmer  sao 
nursing  his  rifle.  "  What  does  that  blackguard  mean 
by  sitting  there  on  a  stump  with  a  gun?  "  he  went  on. 

"  Why,  he  ain't  no  blackguard — ^that's  Nip.  Name's 
Nippolian;  we  call  him  Nip." 

Well,  I'll  nip  him  if  he  gets  funny." 
Oh,  no,  you  won't.    1  wa'n't  afraid  o'  that.    Wliat 
come  over  me,  as  I  see  you  startin'  'cross  the  meadow, 
was  maybe  you  had  a  mother  that  dotes  on  you  as  I  dote 
on  Nip,  an'  how  hard  it  would  be  for  her  to  have  you 
come  home  that  away,  an'  her  a-blamin'  us,  maybe." 
What  way  do.  you  expect  me  to  go  home?  " 
Well,  if  you  persist  in  drivin'  them  stakes  there, 
you'll  go  home  dead." 

*'  Well,"  said  the  engineer,  "  I'll  do  anything  in 
reason,  but  I  won't  be  bluffed  by  that  ruffian." 

"  I  keep  a-tellin'  you  he  ain't  no  ruffi'n — he's  jist 
Nip,  that's  all.  You  see,  we've  been  here  purty  nigh 
always — Nip  was  born  here — an'  when  the  grurillas 
come  an'  called  paw  out  an'  shot  him,  we  hurried  him 


« 


a 


(( 


i( 


236 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


jist  whar  he  fell,  an'  we've  always  kep'  it  as  a  sort  of 
reservation,  Nip  an'  me,  an'  he's  determined  you  sha'n<'t 
disturb  it,  that's  all." 

"  Then  you  don't  object  to  the  railroad?  " 

"  Lord  o'  mercy,  no!  We  want  the  road,  but  we 
don't  want  you  to  disturb  paw's  grave,  that's  all." 

"  Come,"  said  the  engineer,  "  we'll  go  to  see  Nip." 

When  they  had  come  up  to  the  stump  the  big  en- 
gineer held  out  his  hand.  Nip  took  it,  but  kept  his 
eyes  on  the  stranger. 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  the  woman,  touching  a  low  stone 
lightly  with  her  foot. 

"  I  see,"  said  the  engineer;  "  we  can  miss  that 
easily  enough." 

He  moved  a  mile  of  road.  From  that  day  forward 
until  the  road  was  finished,  and  long  after,  the  widow's 
home  was  the  stopping  place  for  the  engineer. 

The  railroad  engineer  often  succeeds  where  failure 
seems  certain,  and  his  work  then  remains  as  a  monu- 
ment to  his  memory  after  he  has  passed  away;  but  of 
the  many  daring  schemes  that  fail  the  world  knows 
nothing,  or,  if  it  ever  hears,  it  soon  forgets.  One  of 
the  wildest,  most  romantic,  and  daring  enterprises  that 
have  ever  been  undertaken  in  the  West  was  the  at- 
tempt to  survey  and  build  a  railroad  through  the 
Grand  Caiion  of  the  Colorado.  If  all  the  wild  gorges 
in  the  West  were  melted  down  and  recast,  they  would 
fall  short  of  making  another  Grand  Canon.  Its  awful 
grandeur  belittles  everything  else. 

The  Colorado  Eiver  begins  with  the  confluence  of 
the  Green  and  Grand  in  southeastern  Utah,  so  deep 
down  in  the  twisted  hills  that  until  a  few  years  ago  no 


THE  RAILROAD  ENGINEER. 


237 


man  knew  how  or  where  the  great  stream  originated. 
Explorers  have  attempted  to  ascend  it  from  the  Gulf 
since  1540,  but  soon  find  themselves  at  the  foot  of  a 
foaming  cataract,  and  turn  back.  Scores  of  men  have 
gone  in  at  the  top  of  the  canon,  but  were  never  heard 
of  afterward. 

In  1869  Major  Powell  undertook  the  exploration  of 
the  canon  wiih  nine  men  and  four  boats.  The  In- 
dians, looking  on,  said  that  he  would  not  come  back. 
No  Indian  had  ever  gone  through  Cataract  Canon  and 
lived  to  lie  about  it,  and  thej'^  would  not  believe  a 
white  man  capable  of  succeeding  where  the  red  man 
had  failed. 

This  expedition  left  the  point  where  Green  River 
station  now  stands,  and  started  down  the  Green  on 
May  24th.  Their  greatest  difficulty  in  that  small 
stream  was  to  find  sufficient  water  to  float  them,  but 
almost  immediately  after  passing  the  point  where  the 
Green  is  joined  by  the  Grand  the  river  became  reck- 
less. Swirls  and  eddies  and  dips  and  falls  were  encoun- 
tered hourly,  and  it  was  not  long  before  some  of  the 
crew  began  to  curse  the  day  that  tempted  them  into 
this  gorge  of  death.  They  would  have  deserted  gladly, 
some  of  them,  but  the  walls  were  already  steep  and 
high. 

At  the  first  opening  one  of  the  party  escaped  to  the 

mountain.    After  encountering  the  terrors  of  Cataract 

Canon,  three  more  half-crazed  men  walked  out  into 

the  desert.    They  never  came  back.    They  fell  into  the 

hands  of  some  Indians  who  were  full  of  the  story  of  an 

outrage  that  had  been  perpetrated  lately  by   white 

men,  and  who  accused  these  wanderers  of  the  crime. 
17 


I 


238 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


The  three  explorers  protested  their  innocencej  and 
begged  to  be  brought  before  the  chief..  When  the  chief 
saw  the  men,  he  demanded  to  know  how  they  hap- 
pened to  be  in  the  country.  Now  the  white  men  told 
the  truth,  ^yhi^h  is  sometimes  stranger  than  fiction. 
They  said  that  they  had  come  all  the  way  from  the 
Green  water  in  a  boat. 

"  You  lie! "  cried  the  chief;  "  no  man  can  do 
that,"  and  the  three  explorers  were  massacred. 

On  August  30th  Major  Powell,  minus  two  boats 
and  four  men,  landed  at  the  mouth  of  the  Virgin 
Kiver,  nearly  a  thousand  miles  from  the  starting  point. 
His  description  of  his  journey  down  the  Colorado  is  an 
interesting  bit  of  graphic  history,  and  we  who  have 
had  glimpses  of  the  Colorcido  are  able  to  imagine  that 
he  came  out  with  a  grand  collection  of  stirring  sensa- 
tions and  nerve-testing  thrills.  And  this  is  the  canon 
through  which  a  party  of  Denver  men  proposed  to  sur- 
vey and  build  a  railroad.  If  the  rond  is  ever  built,  the 
tourists  can  have  here,  in  a  thousand  miles  of  travel, 
more  wild,  grand,  and  awful  scenery  than  can  now  be 
had  from  a  car  window  in  a  journey  round  the  world. 

Aside  from  its  scenic  value,  the  proposed  road  was 
to  connect  by  a  short  line  the  Eocky  Mountain  region 
with  the  orange  groves  of  the  tropics.  It  was  to  pass 
through  a  caiion  where  the  wild  mingles  with  the 
weird,  and  where  the  grand  touches  the  awful.  It  was 
to  be  built  dong  the  foot  of  rocky  walls  whose  sum- 
mits were  kissed  by  the  clouds.  It  was  to  wind  and 
twist  with  a  great  river  thrt  is  a  raging,  turbulent 
thing  of  swift  rapids,  foaming  cataracts,  treacherous 
eddies,  and  fatal  falls. 


THE  RAILROAD  ENGINEER. 


239 


The  first  attempt  to  survey  the  canon  made  by 
these  adventurous  men  was  under  the  patronage  of 
Frank  Mason  Brown,  John  C.  Montgomery,  and  others. 
The  party  left  Denver  on  May  23,  1889,  headed  by 
Mr.  Brown,  who  had  been  chosen  president  of  the 
company.  The  chief  engineer  who  signed  for  this 
dangerous  task  was  Eobert  B.  Stanton.  Other  mem- 
bers of  the  original  party  were  Messrs.  Heslop,  Hans- 
borough,  Richards,  and  MacDonell,  with  two  negro 
servants. 

A  few  letters  were  received  by  the  families  and 
friends  of  the  various  members  of  the  party,  and  finally 
a  "  good-bye  "  from  Green  River.  Then  they  were  off 
on  their  perilous  trip.  The  next  news  received  from 
the  expedition  was  most  hopeful,  and  stated  that  they 
had  passed  successfully  about  three  hundred  miles  of 
the  most  dangerous  part  of  the  river,  "  which  is  one 
series  of  cataracts  and  rapids,  walled  on  either  side  by 
canon  walls  at  times  rising  to  six  thousand  and  seven 
thousand  feet  in  height.  The  descent  is  so  gTcat  that 
at  places  for  miles  in  length  the  water  is  lashed  and 
churned  to  a  foam  of  »creamy  whiteness.  Notwith- 
standing this,  the  journoy  of  throe  hundred  miles  was 
made  in  safety,  and  with  only  the  loss  of  two  boats." 

From  this  point  th<j  party  was  reduced  to  eight 
men.  With  a  fresh  supply  of  provisions,  they  pro- 
ceeded on  the  dangerous  journey.  Their  conveyances 
consisted  of  three  boats,  each  fifteen  inches  deep  and 
thirty-two  inches  wide.  After  leaving  the  Grand  River 
the,  party  passed  through  what  is  known  as  Cataract 
Canon,  in  which  there  are  seventy-eight  rapids  within 
a  space  of  a  few  miles.    These  were  passed  in  safety. 


240 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


For  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  farther  down  the 
stream  was  more  navigable  and  easily  passed,  but  after 
they  had  left  Lee's  Ferry  some  distance  behind  a  ter- 
rible cataract  was  found,  which  is  spoken  of  by  Major 
Powell,  in  his  report  of  his  journey  in  1869,  as  being 
sixteen  feet  high,  and  one  of  the  most  terrible  whirl- 
pools he  ever  saw. 

After  the  cataract  this  message  from  Mr.  Stanton 
reached  the  families  and  friends  of  the  adventurous 
explorers.  It  was  dated  at  Kanab,  Utah,  July  22, 
1889: 

"President  Frank  M.  Brown  was  drowned  in  the 
Colorado  River,  in  Marble  Canon,  July  10th,  by  his 
boat  being  capsized  while  running  a  rapid.  He  was 
thrown  into  a  whirlpool  and  unable  to  get  out  of  it, 
while  the  other  men  in  the  boat  were  thrown  into  the 
current  and  carried  down  about  six  hundred  feet  and 
landed.  All  the  other  boats  of  the  expedition  went 
through  the  rapids  safely,  and  my  boat  reached  the 
point  where  Mr.  Brown  was  thrown  half  a  minute 
after  the  accident  happened,  and  less  than  five  seconds 
after  he  sank  for  the  last  time.  Five  days  after,  while 
working  our  way  down,  another  boat  was  driven  against 
the  cliff,  and  two  boatmen,  Peter  M.  Hansborough  and 
Henry  C.  Richards,  were  both  drowned  before  assist- 
ance could  reach  them.  It  was  impossible  to  recover 
any  of  the  bodies.' 


, » 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


AT  THE   FRONT. 

In  order  to  develop  more  definitely  the  various 
phases  of  the  engineer's  work  in  the  field  and  of  con- 
struction camp  life,  I  have  obtained  permission  to  re- 
print the  follov/ing  magazine  article  published  some 
ten  years  since:  * 

"It  was  merely  as  an  observer  and  writer  that  I  first 
studied  life  at  the  head  of  the  rails  in  the  Black  Canon 
of  the  Gunnison  in  1882.  At  that  time  the  Denver 
and  Rio  Grande  was  building  an  independent  route 
westward  to  Salt  Lake  City.  The  train,  drawn  by  two 
heavy  engines,  wound  slowly  over  the  Marshall  Pass, 
rising  two  hundred  and  seventeen  feet  in  the  mile,  sur- 
mounting tier  after  tier  of  track.  From  the  height  of 
ten  thousand  feet  there  was  a  slow  descent  to  the  plains 
and  the  mining  town  of  Gunnison.  This  was  then  the 
end  of  regular  travel. 

"  A  construction  train  went  onward  daily,  and  pres- 
ently I  found  .a  place  among  the  ties  on  a  flat  car. 
The  first  '  station,'  Kezar,  repeated  the  tnle  of  Jonah's 
gourd.  It  was  a  group  of  board  shanties  with  canvas 
roofs,  a  wretched  huddle  of  groggeries  and  boarding 


♦  Ripley  Hitchcock  in  The  Chautauquan,  June,  18;>.j, 

241 


242 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


tents.  It  had  appeared  in  a  night  when  the  headquar- 
ters of  the  advancing  railroad  were  fixed  there  for  a 
few  days.  But  the  railroad  had  passed  on,  and  Kezar 
was  left  to  languish  while  a  new  terminal  city  made  its 
boasts,  only  to  be  abandoned  in  turn.  Presently  the 
hills  along  the  river  grew  higher  and  more  precipitous, 
the  mesas  gave  way  to  crumbling  crags,  and  with  a 
farewell  shriek  from  the  engine  the  train  thundered 
out  of  sunshine  into  gloom.  Frowning  cliffs  rose 
straight  up  from  the  track  on  one  side,  and  on  the 
other  the  gray  river  brawled  along  the  foot  of  the 
opposing  precipice.  Mountains  of  reddish  gray  rock 
towered  aloft  on  either  hand,  veined  with  white,  and 
seamed  v;ith  fissures  worn  with  the  passage  of  ages. 
Here  great  boulders  literally  overhung  the  track,  and 
again  there  were  dark  caves  or  fleecy  cascades  above, 
or  tjie  grim  canon  walls  were  almost  exactly  vertical 
from  their  giddy  summits  to  the  ribbon  of  steel  and 
the  river  at  their  base.  The  Black  Caiion  of  the  Gun- 
nison is  known  to  tourists  in  these  days,  but  thoy  can 
not  know  the  difficulties  of  railroad  building  through  a 
gorge  only  wide  enough  in  places  for  the  river.  Here,, 
as  in  the  Royal  Gorge,  the  surveyors  picked  their  way 
through  on  ice  in  the  winter.  Here,  when  the  work 
of  construction  was  begun,  men,  and  even  horses  and 
wagons,  were  lowered  down  steep  slopes  by  ropes,  and 
workmen  wielded  drill  and  hammer  hanging  by  ropes 
until  they  had  blasted  out  a  foothold. 

'*  I  stopped  at  the  boarding  train,  which  stood  op- 
posite a  rock  tower  a  thousand  feet  in  height.  The 
sunlight  fell  upon  its  pinnacle,  gilding  a  huge  profile 
carved  by  Nature,  but  the  canon  depths  were  all  in 


K 

B 

C       ^ 

.5    £ 

c 
S      c 

^    2 

CO         «• 

.£ 


I  I 


•AT  THE  FRONT. 


243 


s 
C      « 

c 
<M      e 

^     2 

to       -^ 
3       ix 


shadow.  Here  was  the  temporary  home  of  four  hun- 
dred men.  A  little  beyond  was  the  working  train  at 
the  very  end  of  tlie  rails.  All  along  the  dunij)  or  road- 
bed gangs  of  men  were  busily  unloading  and  placing 
ties  and  rails,  or  levelling  the  surface  with  exactness. 
Presently  a  whistle  blew.  Six  o'clock  had  come,  and 
the  men,  leaving  their  tasks,  scrambled  aboard  the  flat 
cars  and  the  train  rumbled  back  to  the  *  hotel  on 
wheels.'  Long  before  the  cars  stopped  the  men  were 
hustling  each  other,  like  a  flock  of  stampeded  sheep,  in 
a  wild  race  for  supper.  The  seats*  were  limited  in  num- 
ber, the  labourers  many,  and  none  had  any  idea  of 
waiting  for  *  second  table.'  A  toilet  was  a  trifling 
matter.  The  next  morning  would  be  time  enough 
for  faoap  and* water.  There  were  swarthy  Italians, 
Irishmen  with  carrotv  locks,  men  of  a  score  of  nation- 
alities,  beg-imed,  tattered,  gnawed  at  by  the  appetit^^ 
given  by  labour  in  the  bracing  Colorado  air,  all  bref  • 
ren  in  a  purely  animal  instinct,  a  ravenous  desire  to 
satisfy  hunger.  They  swarmed  into  the  old  freight 
cars  which  had  been  fitted  up  with  long  planks  for 
benches  and  table&w  On  the  latter  were  tin  pannikins, 
iron  knives  and  forks,  and  pewter  spoons.  Mounds 
of  coarse  bread,  pans  of  some  strange  stew,  and  pots 
of  rank  black  tea  appeared  and  disappeared  before 
these  lusty  trenchermen.  Words  were  not  wasted. 
Every  act  had  a  bearing  upon  the  business  in  hand, 
A  railroad  navvy  hungry  and  tired  has  /  no  time  for 
nonsense.'  One  by  one  they  rose  from  the  table. 
There  was  nothing  to  be  said.  They  had  been  fed, 
and  for  the  time  they  were  content.  But  presently 
the  social  instinct  reasserted  itself.    They  lighted  black 


'i 


244 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


pipes  and  drew  together.  Some  rudely  mended  their 
garments  in  company,  and  others  produced  dirty  cards 
or  gathered  to  talk.  A  few  clambered  into  the  narrow 
board  bunks  in  the  cars  and  drev  their  blankets  up 
over  aching  limbs.  It  was  a  glimpse  of  a  hard,  cheer- 
less life,  but  as  I  turned  to  go  back  to  the  construction 
train  some  one  struck  up  a  rollicking  Irish  song,  and 
others  joined,  until  the  canon  walls  gave  back  the 
choruQ. 

"  There  were  special  dangers  in  this  work  aside 
from  ordinary  accident  and  exposure.  A  little  time 
before  two  men  were  swept  away  by  the  rapid  current 
of  the  river;  others  had  been  killed  by  the  overhanging 
rocks.  Yet  the  dangers  of  canon  work  would  be  pre- 
ferred by  many  to  an  open  country  harried  by  the 
fierce  Apaches  of  the  Southwest  and  northern  Mexico, 
which  I  visited  after  leaving  the  Gunnison  country.  A 
year  or  two  before,  the  famous  Apache  chief,  Victorio, 
and  his  bloodthirsty  followers,  Kad  raided  the  valley  of 
the  Kio  Grande.  One  contractor  told  me  of  a  chase 
which  lasted  for  three  days.  At  night  he  and  his  men 
travelled  as  best  they  could.  In  the  morning  they 
chose  an  advantageous  place,  made  a  corral  of  their 
wagons,  and  lay  beliind  them  all  day  while  the  Indians 
circled  about  a)-  a  distance,  exchanging  shots,  but  never 
venturing  on  a  direct  attack.  It  is  not  hard  to  imagine 
the  harassing  strain  of  these  days,  but  happily  the 
white  men  escaped  the  fate  of  others  whose  graves 
arc  in  the  lonely  sand  hills  to  the  south  of  El  Paso  del 
Noi-te. 

"  The  end  ol  the  Mexican  Central's  rails  was  two 
hundred  miles  below  the  frontier  when  I  entered  Mex- 


AT  THE  FHONT. 


245 


ico  ^n  1882,  and  for  this  distance  travel  was  simply  a 
question  of  securing  a  permit  and  waiting  for  a  con- 
struction train.  But  less  than  a  year  before  eight 
bra«^e  men  had  laid  down  their  lives  to  open  the  way. 
For  forty  miles  below  Paso  del  Norte  stretches  the 
desert  known  as  *  The  Sand  Hills.'  At  its  southern 
limit  I  saw  four  rude  crosses  outlined  against  the  sky, 
mute,  lonely  witnesses  to  the  fate  of  avanUcoureurs 
of  civilization.  In  June,  1881,  four  engineers  v/ere 
riding  down  through  the  sand  hills  when  the  sudden 
crack  of  Winchesters  told  of  the  remorseless  Apaches. 
On  the  hill  marked  by  the  crosses  the  white  men  made 
their  last  stand.  Thei .  was  no  chance  of  help  or  res- 
cue. Surrender  meant  only  ghastly  torture,  so  they 
fought  side  by  side  behind  a  heap  of  sand  until  every 
cartridge  was  gone.  Had  they  been  English  soldiers  in 
an  African  campaign  sent  against  Zulus  ^\ho  were 
fighting  to  protect  their  homes,  England  would  not 
have  allowed  their  heroism  to  be  forgotten.  But  they 
were  only  engineers,  representing  not  aggression  and 
conquest,  but  the  advance  of  civilization,  and  so  they 
laid  down  their  lives  and  were  forgotten,  while  you 
and  I  come  after  them  in  safety. 

"It  was  with  difficulty  even  then  that  I  learned 
then*  names — Fordham,  Leavitt,  Grew,  and  Wallace. 
It  was  characteristic  of  the  life  tha<;  no  one  had  ap- 
peared to  claim  Wallace's  money  and  papers,  which 
were  found  buried  in  the  sand  beneath  Jiis  corpse. 
Like  many  another  frontier  hero,  the  story  of  his  life 
died  with  him. 

"  Life  at  the  head  of  the  rails  in  Mexico  had  a  pic- 
turesqueness  of  its  own.    There  was  the  element  of  his- 


I 

f 

1 

I 


246 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RA7LR0AD. 


torical  interest.  Our  construction  train  passed  down 
the  valley,  close  beside  a  bluff  where  heaps  of  earth 
recalled  the  battle  of  Sacramento.  At  the  time  of  my 
visit  the  construction  camp  was  about  fifteen  miles 
north  of  Chihuahua.  We  rode  to  the  end  of  the  rails 
on  flat  cars  loaded  with  ties.  As  the  rails  were  laid 
the  flat  ears  of  the  working  train  were  backed  down 
and  other  materials  kept  within  easy  reach.  On  a  side 
track  stood  a  boarding  train,  but  many  of  the  men. 
were  living  in  tents,  and  all  about  us  the  smoke  of 
their  fires  rose  in  the  clear,  dry  air,  which  brought 
out  the  very  seams  and  fissures  of  the  mountain  peaks 
along  the  distant  horizon.  Most  of  the  contractors 
had  their  own  *  outfit,'  a  kitchen  and  storage  tent  with 
simple  utensils,  tents  for  themselves,  containing  rude 
bunks  or  occasionally  cots,  and  sometimes  tents  for 
their  men.  By  boarding  their  men,  and  perhaps  sell- 
ing light  supplies,  they  realized  a  double  profit.  If 
prices  were  high,  there  was  an  excusv3  in  frontier 
duties  averaging  about  one  hundred  per  cent  on  manu- 
factured articles.  On  canned  goods,  always  in  de- 
mand, the  import  duty  was  seventy-two  cen^is  a  kilo-, 
gramme,  and  the  vessel,  whether  glass  or  tin,  was  taxed 
at  the  same  rate.  *  Vi/'hat  do  you  think  those  pickles 
cost  me? '  asked  a  contractor  in  whosa  tent  I  dined 
that  day.  Their  cost  was  fifty  dollars  a  half  barrel. 
Moreover,  there  were  municipal  duties  to  be  paid  be- 
fore imports  could  enter  a  city.  But  there  have  been 
el  anges  since  then.  Two  civilizations — the  American 
f  d  the  old  conservative  Spanish — ^have  adapted  them- 
selves sufficiently  at  least  to  avoid  constant  friction. 
But  at  that  time  the  American  railroad  builder  was 


AT  THE  FRONT. 


247 


almost  as  truly  a  pioDeer  as  Cortes  among  the  native 
Mexicans. 

"  The  contrast  of  types  was  a  curious  study.  Be- 
side the  stalwart  American  or  Irishman  in  faded  flan- 
nels and  high  boots,  the  swarthy  Mexican,  his  scanty 
dress  concealed  beneath  his  striped  scrape,  squatted  be- 
fore his  fire,  lazily  rolling  cigarettes  as  he  cooked  his 
frijoles  and  tortillas.  Every  morning  Mexicans  from 
Chihuahua  rode  up  to  the  camp  and  stared  in  passive 
wonderment  at  the  railroad,  the  ferrocarril,  which 
most  of  them  had  never  seen  before.  There  they  sat 
like  the  gayly  coloured  images  sold  in  their  cities,  until 
a  sudden  shriek  from  the  engine  drove  their  horses  wild 
with  fear.  As  railroad  labourers  the  lower  class  Mexi- 
cans were  more  picturesque  than  useful,  but  they  soon 
learned  some  of  the  railroad's  advantages.  The  en- 
gineers told  remari^able  tales,  like  that  of  one  of  the 
men  who  tied  a  venerable  bull  to  the  track  at  night  and 
appeared,  after  the  inevitable  result,  with  a  claim  for 
the  loss  of  a  herd  of  cows. 

"  I  rode  into  Chihuahua  on  horseback,  and  return- 
ing after  a  week  with  a  companion,  we  drove  to  the 
camp,  slept  in  a  freight  car,  and  next  morning  drove 
on  to  a  Mexican  ranch  near  Encinillas.  Here  an  en- 
gine and  caboose  stood  on  the  track  waiting  orders. 
There  were  no  regular  trains,  and  we  ran  from  one 
siding  to  another,  feeling  our  way  aa  best  we  could, 
or,  by  l3dng  by,  broiling  in  the  sun.  Night  came  on 
while  we  were  thus  labouring  onward.  We  had  had 
nothing  to  eat,  and  there  was  nothing  short  of  Paso 
del  Norte.  But  presently  tlie  engineer  came  back  to 
us  and  revealed  a  can  of  chicken  and  some  bread.    It 


! 


248 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


was  characteristic  that  he  should  divide  his  rations 
among  six  hungry  men — characteristic  of  Western  rail- 
road men. 

"  These  trifling  details  may  help  to  illustrate  the 
unsettled  conditions  of  life  and  travel  before  the  formal 
opening  of  a  road,  but  the  life  in  Chihuahua  was  lux- 
urious compared  with  the  experiences  which  followed 
in  Sonora.  The  Sonora  Railroad  was  built  northward 
from  Guayinas  to  the  frontier,  where  it  joined  the  line 
built  down  from  Benson  on  the  Southern  Pacific. 
There  was  a  gap  of  about  twenty  miles  in  September, 
1882,  when  I  reached  the  frontier.  The  northern  rails 
ended  at  Line  City,  a  typical  camp,  which  consisted 
of  a  dozen  shanties  and  tents  and  as  many  mountains 
of  empty  beer  bottles.  There  was  no  work  in  progress 
at  that  end,  and  life  was  therefore  comparatively  quiet. 

"  When  the  an^bulance  of  the  chief  engineer  came 
up,  there  were  doleful  tales  of  Apaches.  Some  of  the 
Chiricahuas  had  been  raiding  along  the  frontier.  Two 
white  men  had  been  killed  on  the  road  a  week  before, 
and  nobody  ventured  far  among  the  hills  without  fear- 
ing the  sudden  swoop  of  these  Ishmaelites  of  the  South- 
west. Stories  of  the  disappearance  of  herders  and 
the  loss  of  cattle  came  in  from  the  ranches.  It  is  a 
strange  experience  for  one  from  the  country  of  law  and 
order  and  police  and  the  commonplace  to  find  himself 
among  primitive  conditions,  a  participant  in  the  con- 
flict between  civilization  and  savagery. 

"  So  far  as  my  own  journey  was  concerned,  the 
danger  was  too  slight  to  be  considered  seriously.  The 
great  construction  camp  vas  less  than  twenty  miles 
below,  and  there  was  travel  enough  by  that  time  prac- 


AT  THE  FRONT. 


249 


tically  to  insure  the  safety  of  the  road.  It  was  due 
to  custom  more  than  actual  danger  that  the  driver  of 
the  ambulance  kept  his  Winchester  by  his  side;  but 
there  was  one  passenger  who  saw  danger"  lurking  be- 
hind every  bush.  He  was  a  Hebrew  merchant  from 
Guaymas,  one  of  the  many  thrifty  traders  of  his  race 
who  have  followed  close  behind  the  pioneers  to  estab- 
lish trading  houses  throughout  the  southwestern  coun- 
try. My  companion  carried  a  little  black  bag,  which 
no  one  was  allowed  to  touch,  and  this  he  was  clearly 
prepared  to  defend  with  his  life.  He  had  equipped 
himself  with  a  new  Winchester  and  six-shooter,  and 
the  only  real  danger  of  the  trip  lay  in  his  manipula- 
tion of  these  unwonted  weapons.  After  the  mules 
started,  he  undertook  to  charge  the  magazine  of  the 
Winchester  and  to  load  the  revolver.  As  the  ambu- 
lance swayed  from  side  to  side,  the  muzzle  of  the  rifle 
now  explored  the  driver's  ribs,  and  again  stared  threat- 
eningly into  my  face.  Of  the  danger  of  a  cocked  gun 
or  a  sudden  or  severe  blow  on  the  hammer  this  man 
of  peace  seemed  to  know  nothing. 

"  So  we  drove  on  past  the  littl«  Mexican  custom- 
house with  its  pompous  tenant,  among  hills  dotted 
with  live  oaks,  over  the  *  summit,'  and  down  through 
the  beautiful  Magdalena  Valley,  passing  contractors' 
camps  and  swarthy  Mexicans  at  work  on  the  dump, 
until  we  reached  the  end  of  the  rails  at  Agua  Zarca. 
Here  were  sunshine  and  colour  in  place  of  the  gloom 
of  the  Black  Canon.  Mexicans  and  Yaqui  Indians 
worked  about  the  construction  train,  clad  in  light 
colours,  vociferating  and  gesticulating  with  Southern 
animation,  picturesque  in  spite  of  themselves  and  their 


250 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


prosaic  handling  of  ties  and  rails,  just  as  the  rhythm 
of  the  Spanish  tongue  preserved  its  musical  cadence  in 
spite  of  the  shrill  voices. 

"  At  night  I  went  out  into  the  camp.  All  about 
us  the  camp  fires  blazed  among  the  chaparral  and  mes- 
quite,  lighting  swarthy  faces  with  seemingly  sinister 
eyes  gleaming  under  broad  sombreros.  There  was  a 
time  when  the  scene  would  have  been  described  in  a 
phrase — the  brigands  of  Salvator  Rosa.  It  was  a  fas- 
cinating sight,  this  camp  in  the  firelight,  with  figures 
sitting  and  standing,  always  draped  in  the  gay  serape 
which  the  meanest  peon  wears  with  native  grace,  but 
the  glitter  and  glow  had  vanished  in  the  gray  morning. 
I  was  called  at  four  ofclock  to  take  a  train  southward, 
and  when  I  left  the  car  the  air  was  very  cold.  The 
camp  fires  had  burned  low.  In  that  uncertain  gray 
light  even  the  scrapes  had  lost  their  warmth  of  colour. 

"A  little  later,  and  the  local  colouring  asserted  itself 
more  vividly  than  before.  The  train,  consisting  of 
two  passenger  cars  and  a  dozen  freight  and  box  cars, 
stopped  at  Magdalena,  where  one  of  the  perennial 
■fiestas  had  just  closed,  and  two  hundred  Mexicans  and 
Indians  waited  on  the  platform.  There  was  colour 
enougH  and  to  spare  in  that  company  of  gaudy  scrapes, 
sombreros  glittering  with  gold  and  silver,  and  the  gar- 
ish red  blankets  of  the  Yaquis.  But  the  baggage! 
Huge  rolls  of  straw  matting — patitas — used  as  beds, 
stone  mortars  for  grinding  corn,  wicker  crates  filled 
indiscriminately  with  cheeses  and  dirty  clothes,  curi- 
ously painted  trunks,  ancient  enough  to  have  carried 
the  wardrobe  of  Cabeza  de  Vaca,  sacks  of  pomegranates, 
demijohns  of  mescal,  and  an  indescribable  mixture  of 


AT  THE  FRONT. 


251 


pots  and  kettles  and  Louaehold  articles.  Most  of  the 
forenoon  was  occupied  in  painting  station  numbers 
upon  the  various  *  lots/  to  use  the  phrase  of  the  auc- 
tioneer. Most  of  the  afternoon  was  enlivened  by  the 
hospitable  Mexican  baggagemaster,  who  freely  dis- 
tributed the  mescal,  pomegranates,  and  melons  of  his 
passengers  among  a  group  assembled  in  his  car. 

"  This  was  one  of  the  phases  of  early  railroad  life 
in  Mexico,  and  another  less  amusing  was  the  Mexican 
desir<^  to  interfere  with  or  make  victims  of  American 
railroad  men.  One  station  agent  told  of  arrest  and  im- 
prisonment because  a  Mexican  had  left  his  blanketd 
on  the  station  platform  until  they  were  stolen.  A 
brakeman  boasted  of  a  dozen  arrests.  A  conductor 
whom  I  sought  to  aid  in  Hermosillo  was  accused  of 
murder  by  witnesses  who  swore  that  he  not  only  put 
a  man  off  the  train,  but  even  held  him  beneath  the 
wheels.  The  'victim'  was  produced  in  court,  but 
even  this  failed  to  secure  the  conductor's  acquittal, 
and  for  attempting  to  see  him  I  myself  was  arrested 
and  escorted  to  jail  by  a  squad  of  soldiers.  In  my 
case  the  thing  was  a  trifle,  for  release  with  apologies 
from  the  general  and  the  Governor  followed  within 
half  an  hour,  but  many  of  the  railroad  men  siiffered 
severely.  The  story  of  early  railroad  building  in  Mexi- 
co is  a  story  of  misunderstanding,  of  imposition,  and 
of  petty  outrages.  The  Americans  were  not  without 
sin,  but  in  many  cases  the  trouble  could  be  traced  to 
Mexican  jealousy*  or  greed. 

"  The  next  year  I  followed  the  trail  of  blood  which 
marked  the  progress  of  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  Rail- 
way across  northern  Arizona.     There  may  have  been 


li 


252 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


more  violence  than  usual,  but  no  Western  railroad  has 
been  built  without  bloodshed.  At  Coolidge,  Ariz.,  five 
desperadoes  fortified  themselves  in  a  log  cabin  and 
sallied  forth  to  harry  land  and  people,  until  they  were 
surrounded  and  shot  down.  Holbrook,  Winslow,  Wil- 
liams, all  had  their  era  of  crime.  At  Canon  Diablo  a 
murderous  plot  to  rob  the  pay  car  was  fortunately 
frustrated.  Flagstaff  *  was  quiet  enough  at  the  time 
I  *  outfitted  '  there  to  visit  some  newly  discovered  ruins 
of  cliff-dwellers,  but  of  the  fourteen  graves  in  the  rude 
inclosure  beneath  the  pines,  eleven  were  the  graves 
of  men  who  met  with  violent  deaths.  So  the  records 
might  be  continued,  although  at  the  time  of  my  visit  the 
rails  had  reached  the  Colorado  River,  most  of  the  con- 
struction hands  had  come  back,  and  few  besides  the 
bridge  builders  remained.  So  on  the  Northern  Pa- 
cific, which  I  travelled  over  the  same  summer,  there 
were  only  the  ruins  of  construction  camps  and  some 
lonely  graves  in  the  mountains  to  tell  of  the  army  of 
men  suddenly  gathered  together  only  to  vanish  like 
the  morning  dew.  Their  work  was  done.  After  them 
came  the  magnates  and  politicians,  whom  I  saw  feast- 
ing, like  Belshazzar,  in  Portland,  Ore.,  while  the  tele- 
graph operators  were  writing  the  story  of  falling  stocks 
in  New  York  and  impending  disaster. 

"  The  recruiting  of  these  armies  of  labourers  is  a 
peculiar  calling.  The  contractors  enlist  men  through 
advertisements  or  agents  in  the  nearest  cities  and  ship 
them  in  gangs.    The  men  usually  bring  their  blankets, 

*  Amon^  the  many  changes  since  this  article  was  written, 
none  is  more  curious  than  that  which  has  made  Flagstaff  known 
to  the  world  as  the  site  of  Mr.  Percival  Lowell's  observatory. 


II 


AT  THE  FRONT. 


253 


and  sometimes  modest  kits.  They  are  boarded  and 
usually  furnished  with  sleeping  places  in  cars,  tents, 
or  shanties  by  the  railroad  company,  the  construction 
company,  or  the  contractors,  as  the  case  may  be.  Their 
wages  probably  average  a  dollar  and  a  half  a  day,  al- 
though any  skilleH  labour,  of  course,  commands  jnore. 
Their  board  may  be  estimated  at  about  four  dollars 
a  week.  With  the  exception  of  the  Italians,  they  save 
little.  When  the  road  is  built,  some  of  the  better  men 
secure  permanent  employment.  The  others,  perhaps 
a  thousand  miles  from  their  last  home,  obtain  return 
passage  from  the  railroad  company  if  possible,  or  beg 
and  steal  rides  on  freight  trains,  or  travel  on  a  'tie 
pass,'  an  ironical  phrase  for  the  privilege  of  walking 
•on  the  track.  Some  of  them  re-enforce  the  army  of 
tramps  constantly  moving  backward  and  forward  along 
the  railroads.  It  is  a  small  minority,  in  all  probability, 
who  are  the  better  for  their  taste  of  the  strange,  wild 
life  at  the  head  of  the  rails. 

"  Western  railroad  building  has  been  an  essential 
factor  in  our  national  development,  as  every  one  knows, 
but  few  have  any  knowledge  of  railroad  exploration, 
of  the  venturesome  work  of  engineers,  and  of  the  rail- 
road construction  camp.  A  recklessness  born  of  free- 
dom from  restraint  and  the  splendid  exhilaration  of 
the  Western  air  has  soiled  many  pages  of  the  record, 
but  very  many  of  the  crimes  have  been  due  to  the 
bloodsuckers  and  parasites,  the  gamblers,  thugs, 
thieves,  and  rumsellers  who  infest  railroad  camps.  If 
there  are  dark  pages  in  the  history,  there  are  many 
others  golden  with  stories  of  unselfishness,  of  steadfast 
courage,  and  of  heroism." 
18 


§     I 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE   KAILROAD   AND  THE   PEOPLE. 

"  Every  man  in  the  land  is  interested  daily  and  constantly  in 
railroads  and  the  transportation  of  persons  and  property  over 
them." — Judge  Thomas  M.  Cooley. 

Daring  engineers,  backed  by  equally  daring  capi- 
tal, have  pushed  the  railroad  always  far  in  advance 
of  civilization  and  business,  so  that  we  who  are  still 
on  this  side  of  fifty  have  always  had  the  railroad.  The 
people  have  not  always  made  the  railroad,  but  they 
have  always  shown  a  disposition  to  dictate  to  it,  and 
in  the  few  instances  where  the  General  Government 
has  lent  its  credit  the  people  have  insisted  upon  the 
right  to  run  the  road.  This  is  particularly  true  of  the 
people  who  live  along  the  line  that  has  received  gov- 
ernmental assistance.  True,  as  taxpayers  they  have 
contributed  no  more  to  the  work  than  others  who  live 
thousands  of  miles  away  and  have  received  all  its  bene- 
fits, but  they  insist  upon  the  right  to  enter  the  man- 
ager's office  and  put  their  feet  on  the  desk.  They 
have  been  known  to  insist  upon  free  transportation 
and  special  freight  rates,  on  the  ground  that  the  peo- 
ple made  the  road,  and  that  "  we  are  the  people."  * 

♦  "  I  found  people  in  Nebraska  who  were  possessed  with  the 

idea  that  the  Union  Pacific  was  constructed  for,  and  should  be 
254 


THE  RAILROAD  AND  THE  PEOPLE. 


255 


[he 
be 


Certain  inferior  brands  of  very  cheap  politi- 
cians have  deemed  it  their  duty  to  array  the  people 
against  all  corporations,  especially  against  the  rail- 
roads. This  feeling  finally  got  to  be  so  general  in 
the  West  that  the  employees  of  the  railroad  actually 
came  to  regard  the  company  which  gave  them  a 
livelihood  as  a  common  enemy.  Fortunately  for 
itself  more  than  for  the  corporation,  the  great  army 
that  operates  the  road  is  beginning  to  think  for 
itself,  and  has  stopped  taking  its  opinions  blindly 
from  others. 

A  branch  of  industry  which  directly  furnishes  em- 
ployment to  two  million  people,  and  indirectly  to  two 
millions  more,  ought  to  be  encouraged.  The  railroad 
can  not  be  called  a  monopoly.  Wherever  there  is  too 
much  business  for  one  road,  a  competing  line  is  sure 
to  be  built,  and  the  Igws  passed  by  the  people  pro- 
hibit the  consolidation  of  competing  or  parallel  lines. 
As  one  result  of  paralleling,  aided  by  adverse  legisla- 

operated  mainly  in  deference  to,  the  wishes  of  that  section,  and 
who  actually  believed  that  their  State  should  be  consiilted  by  the 
managers  before  any  improvements  were  made,  innovations  in- 
troduced, or  extensions  pushed  forward.  In  the  minds  of  such 
people,  the  question  whether  the  road  had  done  more  for  the 
State  than  the  State  had  done  for  the  road  never  seemed  to  rise. 
But  those  who  take  an  unreasoning  and,  to  my  mind,  a  most 
unjust  view  of  the  conduct  of  the  Union  Pacific,  are  exceptions 
to  the  rule.  Among  the  most  advanced  thinkers  of  Nebraska  a 
different  feeling  exists  and  different  opinions  prevail.  They 
point  out  with  just  and  pardonabie  pride  the  wonderful  strides 
which  the  young  State  has  made  sinoo  the  Union  Pacific  Railway 
was  constructed." — Hon.  Jesse  Spalding,  to  the  Secretary  of  the 
Interior. 


256 


TUE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


tion,  there'  are  in  the  United  States  nearly  pno  hundred 
thousand  mileri  of  bankrupt  roads.  The  American 
railroad  cams  $1,200,000,000  annually,  and  yet  nearly 
two  thirds  of  the  mileage  are  in  the  hands  of  a  receiver, 
or  ought  to  be.  Then  why  should  the  people  combine 
agaiiwt  the  railroad,  which  is  not  allowed  to  combine 
even  to  save  its  own  life?  Tp  be  sure,  no  patriotic 
citizen  of  this  expanding  republic  would  wish  to  see 
the  railroad  run  the  Government;  and  yet  there  is  no 
more  reason  why  the  Government  should  run  the  rail- 
road than  there  is  for  its  interference  with  packing 
houses,  flour  mills,  or  the  millinery  business.  Those 
who  advocate  the  Government  ownership  of  the  rail- 
road point  with  pride  to  the  splendid  management  by 
the  Government  of  the  railway  mail  service.  Well, 
that  service  is  the  direct  result  of  the  enterprise  of 
and  sharp  competition  betwee;i  the  various  railroad 
systems. 

When  young  William  H.  Vanderbilt  told  his  fa- 
ther that  the  Post  Office  Department  wanted  the  com- 
pany to  build  and  equip  twenty  postal  cars  to  run  over 
the  Vanderbilt  system  (the  New  York  Central  and 
the  Lake  Shore)  between  New  York  and  Chicago,  and 
that  the  department  had  promised  to  support  the  road, 
to  give  it  all  mail  matter  originating  at  or  coming 
into  the  New  York  Post  Office,  provided  the  same 
could  be  delivered  at  its  destination  by  the  Vander- 
bilts  as  quickly  'as  by  any  other  line,  the  old  com- 
modore shook  his  head.  "Do  it,  if  you  want  to,'* 
he  said,  "and  if  Chauncey  wants  it,  but  I  know  the 
Post  Office  Department.  They  will  break  with  you 
within  the  year.' 


» 


TH£  RAILROAD  AND  THE  PEOPLE. 


257 


The  commodore  was  a  bad  gucsser.  They  "  broke  " 
within  a  month.* 

President  Scott,  of  the  Pennsylvania,  not  to  be 
outdone  by  his  splendid  rival,  now  put  on  a  similar 
service,  whereupon  Congress,  seeing  the  rivalry  be- 
tween the  two  systems,  and  thinking  perhaps  that  the 
roads  would  keep  it  up,  began  the  parsimonious  work 
of  cutting  down  the  already  inadequate  compensation. 
And  then  the  roads  most  interested  withdrew  the 
service. 

Here  is  a  fair  illustration  of  the  treatment  ac- 
corded the  railroad.  It  shows  also  the  difference  be- 
tween politics  and  business  enterprise.  The  people 
are  apt  to  argue  that  if  a  train  is  going  over  the  road 
once  a  day  it  might  as  well  go  quickly,  and  have  done 
with  it,  but  it  costs  something  in  fuel,  in  the  strain 
on  machinery,  and  the  rack  and  wreck  of  the  roadbed 
to  run  at  a  high  rate  of  speed.  The  people  do  not 
know,  or  else  they  forget,  that  the  resistance  of  a 
train  is  four  times  as  great  at  sixty  miles  an  hour  as 
it  is  at  thirty  miles  an  hour,  and  the  amount  of  steam 
generated  and  power  exerted  must  be  eight  times  as 
great  in  the  one  case  as  in  the  other.  The  comforts 
of  travel  have  increased  continually,  while  the  cost 
has  decreased.  The  fare  in  the  Rocky  Mountains,  in 
little,  narrow,  cramped  cars,  used  to  be  ten  '^ents  a 
mile;  now  it  is  from  two  and  a  half  to  five  cents  in 
a  palace  car. 


♦  "Within  three  weeks,  despite  the  indignant  protest  of  Colo- 
nel Bangs,  the  mails  of  three  States  were  ordered  to  be  taken 
from  this  and  given  to  another  road." — Ex-Postmaster-Oenebal 
James. 


258 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


Private  enterprise,  with  a  few  exceptions,  has  cre- 
ated within  three  quarters  of  a  century  a  splendid  sys- 
tem of  railroads  in  America,  the  rails  of  which,  it  is 
said,  would  reach  all  the  way  from  the  earth  to  the 
moon;  whose  locomotives  and  cars,  coupled  together, 
would  make  three  solid  trains  across  the  continent 
from  New  York  to  San  Francisco. 

Every  safety  appliance  that  money  can  buy  or  in- 
ventive genius  can  turn  out  has  been  applied  to  the 
locomotives,  cars,  and  signal  systems,  until  it  is  almost 
absolutely  safe  to-day  to  travel  by  rail.  More  people 
perish  annually  by  falling  out  of  windows  than  are 
killed  in  railroad  collisions  or  wrecks.  Travelling 
night  a;  d  day,  a  man  ought,  according  to  statistics, 
to  get  killed  once  in  every  four  hundred  years. 

Every  stake  stuck  in  a  proposed  road  is  a  pros- 
pect hole,  every  station  along  the  line  a  mine,  and 
every  new  road  a  Klondike  to  the  country  through 
which  it  passes.  All  the  gold  in  the  world  would  not 
buy  a  half  interest  in  the  American  railroad,  which 
earns  as  much  money  annually  as  all  the  silver  and 
gold  mines  in  the  United  States  yield  in  ten  years. 
From  the  spring  to  the  autumn  of  1887  a  little  army 
of  ten  thousand  men,  commanded  by  General  I).  C. 
Shepard,  added  eighty  millions  to  the  wealth  of  our 
country  by  the  rapid  construction  of  five  hundred  and 
forty-five  miles  of  road  in  Dakota  and  Montana.  This 
estimate  is  on  the  principle  that  every  dollar  invested 
ir  railroad  construction  is  worth  ten  dollars  to  ths 
country  through  which  the  road  passes.  The  Ameri- 
can railroad  is  a  big  thing.  It  employs  one  out  of 
every  twenty  of  the  working  people  you  pass.    Its 


THE  RAILROAD  AND  THE  PEOPLE. 


259 


freight  work  is  equal  to  the  movirg  of  one  hundred 
thousand  million  tons  a  mile  every  year.  If  one  man 
did  all  the  travelling,  he  would  make  fourteen  thou- 
sand million  miles  annually,  whipping  the  tail  lights 
of  his  train  round  the  earth  at  the  equator  eveiy  fif- 
teen minutes,  but  it  would  take  him  eighty  thousand 
years  to  do  the  year's  work,  with  no  stops  for  meals. 

The  eight  hundred  independent  companies  that 
run  the  American  railroad  pay  their  employees  nearly 
half  a  billion  dollars  a  year,  but  pay  interest  only  on 
thirty  per  cent  of  its  securities;  the  other  seventy  per 
cent  earn  nothing.  ^ 

As  early  as  1835  the  American  republic  had  over 
half  the  railroad  mileage  of  the  world.  In  all  the 
West  the  railroad  has  been  the  pioneer.  Although  the 
Federal  Government,  States,  and  in  a  few  instances 
counties  and  municipalities,  have  helped  the  railroad, 
it  has,  on  the  whole,  been  discouraged  by  the  people. 
The  good  people  of  the  State  of  New  York  as  late  as 
1858  were  holding  public  meetings  and  resohdng  that 
the  New  York  Central  had  no  right  to  compete  with 
the  Erie  Canal.  Verily  the  people  have  made  some 
bad  breaks  in  their  efforts  to  keep  the  railroad  down.* 
One  of  the  good  results  of  the  great  evil  of  the  civil 
war  was  that  it  promoted  the  growth  of  the  railroad. 
Men  then  began  to  think  of  the  nation,  national  needs, 
and  national  development.    The  war  removed  all  local 

*  "  It  is  less  than  thirty  years  since  a  convention  at  Syracuse, 
representing  no  small  part  of  the  public  sentiment  of  New  York, 
formally  recommended '  the  passap^e  of  a  law  by  the  next  Legisla- 
ture which  shall  confine  the  railroads  of  this  State  to  the  business 
for  which  they  were  originally  created.' " — A.  T.  Hadley. 


260 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


jealousy  of  interstate  traffic.  Out  of  the  necessities 
that  arose  came  valuable  ideas,  which  were  afterward 
developed,  perfected,  and  used  by  the  engineers  who 
made  the  railroad  in  the  West.* 

The  most  beneficent  function  of  the  railroad,  it 
has  been  truthfully  said,  is  that  of  a  carrier  of  freight. 
It  moves  a  ton  of  wheat  a  mile  for  a  cent.  The  Ameri- 
can railroad  makes  it  possible  for  the  hungry  millions 
of  the  crowded  European  cities  to  break  bread  oftener 
than  they  used  to  break  it  before  the  road  was  built. 
The  railroad  has  helped  to  reclaim  hundreds  of  mil- 
lions of  acrps  of  land  in  the  West  and  Northwest,  and 
made  homes  for  people  at  the  rate  of  over  half  a  mil- 
lion a  year  for  the  past  half  hundred  years.  It  would 
be  impossible  to  print  in  one  book  a  complete  list  of 
the  blessings  that  have  come  to  the  people  of  the 
United  States  as  a  direct  result  of  the  American  rail- 
road, or  to  attempt  to  record  all  the  wrongs,  big  and 
little,  done  to  the  railroad  by  the  same  blessed  com- 
munity. 


*  "  I  firmly  believe  that  the  civil  war  trained  the  men  who 
made  that  great  national  highway." — General  Sherman. 

"  Necessity  brought  out  during  the  war  bold  structures,  that 
in  the  rough  Vt  ji-e  models  of  economy  and  strength.  In  taking 
care  of  direct  and  lateral  strains  by  positions  of  posts  and  braces 
they  adapted  principles  that  are  used  to-day  in  the  highest  and 
boldest  structures.  /  nd  I  undertake  to  say,  that  no  structure 
up  to  date  has  been  built  which  has  not  followed  those  simple 
principles  that  were  evolved  out  of  necessity,  though  reported 
against  during  the  war  by  the  most  experienced  and  reliable  en- 
gineers of  the  world." — General  Dodoe,  Chief  Engineer,  Union 
Pacific. 


' 


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-4J 


\ 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


THE  BEGINNINGS  OF  THE  EXPEESS  BUSINESS. 


The  idea  of  taking  charge  of  money  and  other 
valuables,  becoming  responsible  for  them  en  route,  and 
delivering  them  in  good  order  at  their  destination, 
originated  with  William  Frederick  Harnden.  He  had 
been  a  passenger  conductor  on  the  Boston  and  Worces- 
ter Eailroad,  later  ticket  agent  in  the  Boston  office, 
and  no  doubt  the  many  calls  he  had  from  people  who 
were  willing  to  trust  him  with  their  shopping  helped 
him  to  appreciate  the  necessity  of  a  public  errand  boy 
on  the  road.  After  three  years  in  the  ticket  office 
Harnden  visited  New  York.  He  wanted  outdoor  em- 
ployment. "  Do  errands  between  New  York  and  Bos- 
ton," said  his  friend  James  W.  Hale,  who  ran  a  news- 
stand called  the  Tontine  Eeading  Room,  and  was  agent 
for  the  Providence  steamboat.  People  used  to  dump 
small  pieces  of  freight  in  the  Tontine  and  ask  Hale 
to  send  them  on.  In  time  the  bankers  and  brokers 
got  to  know  him,  and  would  go  down  to  his  place  at 
the  corner  of  Wall  and  Water  Streets,  hand  him  letters 
and  bundles  of  greenbacks,  and  ask  him  to  give  them 
to  some  one  who  was  going  to  Boston,  Providence,  or 
wherever  the  package  happened  to  be  billed  for.  In 
this  way  Hale  saw  the  need  of  a  messenger,  and  ad- 

261 


'&. 


262 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


vised  Harnden  to  go  into  the  business.  This  was 
early  in  1839.  On  the  23d  of  February  of  the  same 
year  an  advertisement  in  the  Boston  papers  stated  that 
W.  F.  Harnden  had  made  arrangements  with  the  Provi- 
dence Railroad  and  New  York  Steamboat  Companies 
"  to  run  a  car  through  from  Boston  to  New  York  and 
vice  versa  four  times  a  week." 

He  would  accompany  the  car  himself,  the  notice 
stated,  "  for  the  purpose  of  purchasing  goods,  collect- 
ing draughts,  notes,  and  bills." 

The  original  valise  in  which  Harnden  carried  all 
his  freight  for  months  was,  a  few  years  ago  (and  may 
be  still),  in  Cheney  and  Company's  express  office  at 
Boston. 

The  express  started  on  the  4th  of  March,  and  on 
the  21st  the  Boston  Transcript  gave  Mr.  Harnden  edi- 
torial notice,  stating  that  the  express  had  been  found 
"  highly  convenient  to  those  who  wish  to  send  small 
packages  from  one  city  to  the  other.  It  affords  us 
itiuch  pleasure  to  recommend  the  express  to  the  notice 
of  our  readers." 

Harnden  appears  to  have  got  in  touch  with  the 
editors  of  the  great  dailies  of  New  York  and  Boston 
at  once,  for  on  the  14th  of  May  the  editorial  page  of 
the  Transcript  made  the  folloAv'Tug  acknowledgment: 
"  We  are  indebted  to  our  friend  Harnden,  of  the  Pack- 
age Express,  for  the  United  States  Gazette  (Philadel- 
phia) of  yesterday." 

A  man  carrying  packages,  or  even  messages  only, 
was  not  called  a  messenger,  but  an  "  express."  * 

*  "  Some  little  idea  of  the  opposition  that  exists  among  New 
York  editors  may  be  formed,  when  we  mention  that  so  great  was 


THE  BEGINNINGS  OF  THE  EXPRESS  BUSINESS.  263 


In  a  year  Harnden  had  built  up  quite  a  business. 
His  brother  Adolphus  was  one  of  his  best  messengers, 
and  yet,  according  to  Stimson's  History  of  the  Express 
Business,  "  Adolphus  Harnden  was  by  no  means  a  fast 
young  man." 

In  less  than  a  year  the  founder  of  the  express  busi- 
ness had  a  foretaste  of  the  risk  he  was  running  in  en- 
gaging to  carry  and  deliver  money  and  other  valu- 
ables. 

The  first  disaster  came,  as  historian  Stimson  puts 
it,  "on  that  bitter  cold,  dark,  calamitous  night,  the 
13th  of  February,  1840."  That  night  the  steamer  Lex- 
ington, with  thirty  thousand  dollars  in  specie  for  the 
Merchants'  Bank  of  Boston,  on  accounts  of  the  Govern- 
ment, and  twenty  thousand  dollars  in  "greenbacks" 
and  other  valuables  for  various  persons,  burned  off 
Long  Island.  Only  four  out  of  the  one  hundred  and 
fifty  passengers  and  crew  were  saved,  Adolphus  Harn- 
den being  among  the  victims.  W.  F.  Harnden,  the 
founder,  died  five  years  later,  six  years  after  starting 
the  business. 


the  anxiety  to  get  the  start  of  each  other  and  have  the  credit  of 
being  out  first,  that  three  expresses  were  employed  by  the  print- 
ers of  that  city  to  bring  on  President  Jackson's  message.  The 
Courier  and  Enquirer,  speaking  of  it,  says:  'It  was  delivered 
yesterday  at  12  o'clock,  and  conveyed  from  thence  to  Baltimore 
by  express,  from  Baltimore  to  Philadelphia  by  steamboat,  and 
from  Philadelphia  to  this  city  by  our  express,  in  six  hours  and 
twelve  minutes,  notwithstanding  the  bad  situation  of  the  roads. 
We  would  have  been  able  to  lay  it  before  our  readers  at  an 
earlier  hour,  had  not  our  express  between  Baltimore  and  Wash- 
ington lost  all  hi3  copies.  As  it  was,  we  have  incurred  an  expense 
of  three  hundred  dollars.' " — Boston  Transcript,  Dec,  11, 1830. 


264 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


In  1840  Alvin  Adams  laid  the  foundation  for 
the  business  that  employs  an  army  of  men  to-day, 
and  whoso  noisy  wagons  add  materially  to  the 
deafening  "  downtown "  din  in  nearly  every  city 
in  the  United  States.  He  wanted  to  drive  a  stage, 
but  the  agent  told  hiin  that  he  was  "  meant  for  bet- 
ter things,"  although  the  New  England  stage  driver 
was  a  man  of  importance,  often  driving  his  own 
team. 

Failing  to  find  employment  on  the  road,  young 
Adams  became  a  produce  merchant,  failed,  and  started 
in  the  express  business  with  P.  B.  Burke,'  under  the 
name  of  Burke  and  Company. 

Harnden's  friends  said  Adams  was  an  interloper; 
his  own  friends  said  he  was  foolish  to  want  to  divide 
the  business  that  would  scarcely  support  one  man. 
Burke  soon  became  discouraged.  Adams  kept  on,  and 
in  three  years  bought  a  horse. 

The  beginning  of  the  American  Express  Company 
was  when  Henry  Wells  and  George  Pomeroy,  follow- 
ing the  star  of  empire  and  the  Indian^  started  an  ex- 
press west,  between  Albany  and  Buffalo. 

That  was  in  1841.  Like  Burke,  Pomeroy  quit;  but 
"Wells  kept  on,  paying  his  fare  on  the  railroads,  steam- 
boats, and  stages  that  made  the  journey  to  Buffalo  in 
three  nights  and  four  days. 

Nearly  all  the  great  companies  whose  faithful  mes- 
sengers ride  near  the  locomotives  up  and  down  and 
across  the  continent,  standing  in  the  open  door,  re- 
ceiving freight,  and  road  agents,  and  cold  on  their 
lungs,  taking  part  in  wrecks  and  head-end  collisions, 
had  a  humble  beginning. 


THE  BEGINNINGS  OP  THE  EXPRESS  BUSINESS.  265 


The  baggage  express  business  was  originated  by  a 
tailor  named  Arnoux. 

All  there  was  of  "  The  Westcott  Express  Company  " 
in  1851  was  a  one-horse  wagon  with  "Bob"  Westcott 
sitting  close  up  to  the  crupper.  To-day  this  company 
handles  nearly  a  million  pieces  of  baggage  per  year. 

In  1852  Henry  Wells,  who  had  been  Harnden's 
original  agent  at  Albany,  with  W.  G.  Fargo  and  others, 
established  what  is  now  the  well-known  firm  of  Wells, 
Fargo  and  Company,  of  California. 

It  had  cost  seventy-five  cents  to  send  a  pound  of 
freight  from  New  York  to  San  Francisco  in  1849  and 
1850.  The  rate  was  still  sixty  cents,  but  Wells,  Fargo 
and  Company  began  business  by  cutting  it  to  forty 
cents.  Among  the  first  board  of  directors  were  D.  N. 
Barney,  afterward  its  president,  and  at  one  time  presi- 
dent of  the  Northern  Pacific  Railroad,  and  Benjamin 
P.  Cheney,  who  as  a  boy  had  been  a  stage  driver,  then 
proprietor  of  the  stage;  as  a  man  a  railroader,  then 
proprietor  of  the  road,  and  whose  son,"  Benjamin 
Cheney,  of  Boston,  is  now  a  directoi  and  part  owner 
in  a  number  of  Western  railroads. 

At  the  close  of  the  civil  war  there  were  a  number 
of  express  companies,  nearly  all  prosperous.  Some  one 
said  they  were  too  prosperous,  and  organized  "The 
Merchants'  Union  Express  Company,"  capitalized  at 
twenty  million  dollars.  The  openly  avowed  mission 
on  earth  of  this  philanthropic  institution  was  the  utter 
ruin  of  the  business  of  all  existing  companies,  which, 
though  they  were  competing  sharply  for  business,  were 
thrown  in  a  heap,  in  the  literature  put  out  by  the  new 
organization,  and  called  "  the  old  monopoly.' 


i 


j> 


266 


THE  STOttY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


At  the  end  of  two  years,  having  sunk  seven  million 
dollars  and  demoralized  the  business  to  some  extent, 
the  Merchants'  Union  failed,  and  was  absorbed  by  the 
American  Express,  with  William  G.  Fargo  as  president 
of  the  consolidated  company. 

During  the  first  five  years  that  Wells,  Fargo  and 
Company  did  business  in  the  West  they  carried  fifty- 
eight  million  dollars'  worth  of  gold  dust  into  San  Fran- 
cisco. No  other  express  company  in  the  world  has 
suffered  so  much  at  the  hands  of  road  agents.  They 
began  business  in  the  West  when  the  West  was  wild. 
They  ran,  in  the  early  days,  not  only  an  express  busi- 
ness, but  stages  also,  and  an  extensive  banking  busi- 
ness as  well. 

It  was  at  the  door  of  Wells,  Fargo  and  Company's 
stages  that  the  picturesque  but  always  polite  bandits 
of  Bret  Harte  used  to  doff  their  caps  to  timid  passen- 
gers. Their  stage  roads  ran  over  the  shoulders  of  bleak 
and  desolate  mountains,  in  the  shadows  of  frowning 
cliffs,  and  along  the  tunnels  that  had  been  chopped 
through  the  forests  of  California.  Here  that  mild 
murderer,  the  road  agent,  whose  only  redeeming  qual- 
ity was  his  politeness,  who  did  not  swear  or  smoke, 
in  this  life,  did  his  devilish  work. 

In  fourteen  years  he  had  stopped  four  trains  and 
three  hundred  and  thirteen  stages.  Upon  thirty-four 
occasions  the  stage  faile'd  to  stop.  During  this  period 
four  drivers  and  two  messengers — those  fearless  guards 
who  set  themselves  on  the  front  seat  as  a  target  for 
the  outlaws — were  killed.  The  robbers  shot  seven 
horses  and  stole  fourteen  from  the  teams.  Despite  the 
fact  that  the  robbers  always  had  the  advantage,  the 


TUE  PONY  EXPRESS. 


967 


brave  guards  succeeded  during  this  time  in  killing  six- 
teen, while  the  Vigilance  Oomraittce  hanged  seven. 
The  total  amount  taken  in  fourteen  years  was  nearly 
a  million  dollars. 

Later,  between  1875  and  1883,  a  single  man,  with 
a  low,  musical  voice  and  a  sawed-off  shotgun,  held  up 
the  stage  of  Wells,  Fargo  and  Company  twenty-eight 
times. .  In  view  of  the  fact  that  the  State  and  the 
express  company  had  each  a  standing  reward  for  road 
agents  of  three  hundred  dollars,  with  an  additional 
two  hundred  dollars  from  the  Government  when  the 
mail  was  molested,  this  was  shrewd  work.  The  prompt- 
ness with  which  all  claims  on  this  account  have  been 
met  and  settled  has  ever  inspired  and  confirmed  public 
confidence  in  the  integrity  and  responsibility  of  the 
company. 

The  writer  would  not  give  fulsoma  praise  to  the 
express  companies,  yet  it  can  be  stated  as  a  fact  that 
ihey  have  been  the  most  public-spirited  of  the  great 
corporations  of  this  country,  and  have  managed  their 
business  and  their  employees  with  the  least  possible 
friction.  Many  of  them  (notably  Wells,  Fargo  and 
Company)  have  made  it  a  rule  to  collect  and  forward, 
free  of  charge,  money  donated  to  communities  suffer- 
ing from  contagious  fever,  flood,  or  fire. 

In  1866  the  express  companies  of  the  United  States 
erected  an  imposing  monument  at  the  grave  of  Harn- 
den,  in  Mount  Auburn,  at  Boston. 


Of  all  the  expresses,  the  most  romantic  and  pic- 
turesque was  the  pony  express,  inaugurated  by  William 
H.  Russell  and  B.  F.  Ficklin  in  1860,  absorbed  later 


2C8 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


by  Wells,  Furgo  and  Company,  and  abandoned  in  1862, 
when  the  telegraph  line  was  completed  across  the  con- 
tinent. 

Although  in  existence  but  two  years,  the  "  pony  *' 
left  its  footmarks  on  the  plains.  It  established  sta- 
tions which  afterward  became  settlements,  towns,  and 
cities,  and  helped  materially  to  determine  the  practi- 
cability of  the  central  route  for  a  railroad.  It  took  tele- 
grams and  letters  from  the  locomotive  at  St.  Joseph, 
Mo.,  and  delivered  them  to  the  steamboat  at  Sacra- 
mento, which  carried  them  to  the  Golden  Gate.  To 
secure  suitable  horses  and  men,  and  to  establish  sta- 
tions along  the  line,  one  man  had  gone  overland,  and 
another  to  San  Francisco  by  sea,  in  the  fall  of  1859. 
Promptly  at  4  P.  m.  on  the  3d  of  April,  1860,  a  pony 
started  from  either  end  of  the  route.  The  Hannibal 
and  St.  .Joseph  Railroad  ran  a  special  train  to  its  ter- 
mini, ana  the  people  of  those  outposts  of  civilization 
were  wildly  enthusiastic.  Mr.  RuFsell  himself  placed 
the  first  mochivas  upon  the  saddle  in  a  momentary 
hush,  in  which  people  plucked  hairs  from  the  tail  of 
the  pony,  and  when  he  bounded  away  toward  the  set- 
ting sur  pretty  girls  threw  kisses  at  the  courier. 

Th-^  ?.ath  that  the  pony  was  to  take  lay  due  west 
from  hi).  Joseph  to  Fort  Kearney,  up  the  Platte  to 
Julesburg,  thence  by  Fort  Laramie  and  Fort  Bridger 
to  Salt  Lake  via  Camp  Floyd,  Ruby  Valley,  the  Hum- 
boldt, Carson  City,  Placerville,  and  Folsom  to  Sacra-- 
mento.  Weekly  trips  were  to  be  made,  and  on  the 
10th  the  second  pony  started  west.  On  the  13th, 
promptly  at  4  p.  m.,  the  first  pony  from  the  Pacific 
landed  at  St.  Joseph,  the  mail  and  messages  having 


rL 


THE  PONY  EXPRESS. 


26S) 


crossed  the  two  thousand  miles  of  desert  and  plain  in 
exactly  ten  days  from  San  Francisco.  SubsequerO^ 
the  time  was  shortened  to  eight  days.  At  first  the 
stations  were  twenty-five  miles  apart,  but  the  men  rode 
ovc  three  divisions.  Later  there  were  but  ten  miles 
between  stations.  Now  the  pony  was  put  to  a  smart 
gallop  at  the  start,  and  finished  with  neck  outstretched 
like  a  racer  coming  under  t}_«3  wire.  The  light  rider 
with  his  light  load  leaped  from  the  pony  as  he  braced 
his  feet  for  the  last  stop,  sprang  upon  a  fresh  horse 
that  stood  ready,  prancing  and  pawing,  with  two  men 
at  the  bit.  In  a  little  while  forty  fearless  riders  were 
racing  eastward  and  forty  westward  at  all  hours  of  the 
day  and  night.  Often  when  the  rider  reached  the  end 
of  his  run  he  would  find  the  man  who  was  to  relieve 
him  ill,  wounded,  or  scalped,  or  perhaps  he  would  find 
only  the  black  ruins  of  the  station,  and  would  be  com- 
pelled to  push  on.  One  rider  is  said  to  have  ridden 
three  hundred  miles  in  this  way.  He  had  to  be  lifted 
from  the  saddle,  and  was  unable  to  walk  for  some 
time. 

Th?  leading  newspapers  of  New  York  and  San 
Francisco  printed  tissue  editions  and  sent  them  by  the 
pony  express  across  the  continent.  The  pony  express 
was  not  a  success  financially,  although  the  "pony 
,  postage  "  on  a  letter  that  crossed  the  plains  was  five 
dollars;  but  it  was  picturesque  and  valuable  to  the  pub- 
lic, and  helped  to  blaze  the  way  for  the  swifter,  hardier 
steed  of  steel. 

Thousands  of  people  saw  these  swift  riders  flying 

like  winged  shadows  across  the  continent,  and  among 

them  one  man  who  could  paint  for  posterity  what  he 
19 


270 


THE  STORY  OP  TEE  RAILROAD. 


saw.     That  man  was  Mark  Twain,  and  this  is  the 
closing  paragraph  of  his  picture: 

*^  We  had  had  a  consuming  desire  from  the  Legin- 
ning  to  see  a  pony  rider,  but  somehow  or  other  all  had 
passed  us,  and  all  that  met  us  managed  to  streak  by 
in  the  night,  and  so  we  heard  only  a  whiz  and  a  hail, 
and  the  swift  phantom  of  the  desert  was  gone  before 
we  could  get  our  heads  out  of  the  windows.    But  now 
we  were  expecting  one  along  every  moment,  and  would 
see  him  in  broad  daylight.     Presently  the  driver  ex- 
claims, *Here  he  comes!'     Every  neck  is  stretched 
farther  and  every  e;y  e  strained  wider.    Away  across  the 
endless  dead  level  of  the  prairie  a  black  speck  appears 
against  the  sky,  and  it  is  plain  that  it  moves.    Well, 
I  should  think  so!    In  a  second  or  two  it  becomes  a 
horse  and  rider,  rising  and  falHng,  rising  and  falling, 
sweeping  toward  us  nearer  and  nearer,  growing  more 
and  more  distinct,  more  and  more  sharply  defined  to 
the  ear;  another  instant  a  whoop  and  a  hurrah  from 
our  upper  deck,  a  wave  of  the  rider's  hand,  but  no 
reply,  and  man  and  horse  burst  past  our  excited  faces 
and  go  winging  away,  like  the  belated  fragment  of  a 
storm." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


THE   WEST   TO-DAY. 


The  West  as  it  was  in  the  beginning  of  this  story 
is  gone.  That  vast  domain,  miscalled  the  American 
Desert,  is  filled  with  homes,  towns,  and  prosperous 
communities.  The  broad  vales  where  the  wild  grass 
waved  are  green  fields,  meadows,  orchards,  and  flower 
gardens.  The  dead,  dry  plains,  that  the  pioneers  found 
furrowed  only  by  the  deep,  narrow  trails  made  by  the 
buffalo  and  the  Indian,  are  crossed  and  checked  and 
barred  by  bands  of  steel,  and  all  along  these  nziv  trails 
are  thriving  cities.  The  smoke  of  the  machine  shop, 
smelter,  and  factory  drifts  where  less  than  a  half  cen- 
tury ago  the  signal  fires  of  the  savage  burned  to  call 
the  band  to  the  slaughter  of  a  lone  settler  or  an  emi- 
grant train. 

From  a  single  mining  camp  in  one  small  State  situ- 
ated in  the  very  heart  of  this  "  unwatered  wilderness  " 
they  take  a  million  dollars  in  gold  every  month;  and 
yet  all  the  mineral  mined  within  its  borders  in  twelve 
months  would  not  equal  in  money  value  the  annual 
products  of  the  few  fields,  orchards,  and  gardens  that 
have  been  planted  in  the  plains  and  valleys  of  that 
stony  little  State.  Ninety-five  per  cent  of  the  revenue 
of  the  Pacific  railroads,  projected  and  built  for  the 

271 


272 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAIT^ROAD. 


traffic  of  the  Orient,  comes  from  what  is  called  local 
business.  Following  the  smoke  of  the  pioneer  lines, 
dozens  of  systems  of  railroad  have  pushed  their  rails 
into  this  land,  which  at  the  close  of  the  civil  war  was 
considered  uninhabitable.  The  traveller  bound  for 
the  Pacific  coast  has  his  pick  and  choice  of  a  half 
dozen  or  more  routes,  which  for  speed  and  comfort 
can  not  be  equalled  under  the  sun  save  in  America. 
It  would  be  impossible  in  a  single  volume  to  give  even 
a  brief  history  of  the  many  splendid  systems  of  roads 
whose  through  cars,  by  close  traffic  arrangement,  reach 
the  Pacific  coast  States  from  Chicagc,  tt!  ^reat  rail- 
road centre,  without  change.  In  addition  to  the  roads 
already  mentioned,  the  traveller  can  take  the  Manitoba 
or  the  Sunset  route,  or  his  choice  of  a  number  of  splen- 
did roads  between  those  extremes.  Probably  the  most 
extensive  and  important  of  the  newer  roads  whose 
rails  reach  out  beyond  the  Missouri  is  the  Chicago, 
Burlington  and  Quincy.  The  Burlington  and  Mis- 
souri River  Railroad,  a  part  of  the  powerful  Burlington 
system,  has  done  a  great  wo^-k  in  helping  to  people  the 
"desert."  It  has  almost  an  air  line  running  .  ;'m 
the  capital  of  Nebraska  to  Billings,  in  Montana  'v 
a  branch  north  to  that  famed  mining  camp,  Dead^v.*  'f^ 
in  Dakota.  The  Burlington  has  also  a  splendid 
through  line  from  Chicago  to  Denvcf,  and  the  heart 
of  the  Rockies.  Along  these  rails  rush  the  magnifi- 
cent trains  that  cover  this  one  thousand  miles  in 
twenty-six  hours;  and  side  by  side,  neck  and  neck,  are 
the  Northwestern-Union  Pacific  trains,  equally  hand- 
some, doing  the  same  thing  in  the  same  length  of  time. 
The  Burlington  connects  with  the  Denver  and  Rio 


^* 


^ 


Lon.    West   107  from     Qreenwioli 


5t   107  from     Greenwich .  102 


to     from  Washington 


THE  WEST  TO-DAY. 


273 


Grande  at  Denver,  and  by  that  line  and  the  Rio  Grande 
Western  reaches  Ogden,  Utah,  where  connection  is 
made  with  the  Central  Pacific  for  San  Francisco. 

The  Chicago,  Rock  Island  and  Pacific  is  another 
of  the  important  roads  that  has  penetrated  the  plains. 
It  takes  through  traffic  via  Colorado  Springs,  where 
it  connects  with  the  Colorado  Midland,  until  lately 
a  part  of  the  Santa  Fe  system. 

The  Wabash,  Alton,  the  Illinois  Central,  and  other 
roads  carry  people  via  St.  Louis,  and  sometimes  as  far 
south  as  New  Orleans,  and  then  send  them  flying  across 
to  the  coast  by  the  Missouri  Pacific,  or  down  over 
the  Iron  Mountain,  and  the  International  and  Great 
Northern,  and  Texas  Pacific,  or  by  the  Southern  Pa- 
cific's famous  "  Sunset  Limited." 

Far  to  the  north  the  Great  Northern—"  Jim  Hill's 
road,"  as  it  is  familiarly  known  among  railroad  men — 
takes  traffic  frcm  any  and  all  roads  at  St.  Paul,  and 
drives  a  paying  business  through  what  the  early  road 
projectors  used  to  call  "the  frozen  North."  This  is 
to-day  one  of  the  most  prosperous  roads  in  all  the 
West. 

Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  the  West  is  now  able  to 
support  a  number  of  roads.  True,  they  are  not  all 
making  money,  but  they  are  all  helping  to  settle  up 
and  develop  a  section  of  country  that  was  once  con- 
sidered fit  only  for  the  home  of  the  savage  and  a  place 
for  criminals  to  hide  in. 

It  is  only  by  comparison  that  we  can  arrive  at  a 
full  appreciation  of  what  the  railroad  hus  wrought  in 
the  West.  When  the  Zion-bound  pilgrims  pulled  their 
handcarts  across  the  plains  and  over  the  Utah  desert 


274 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


there  were  no  trails  but  those  of  the  bullalo.  The  trap- 
pers and  hunters  followed  the  streams,  while  the  In- 
dians may  be  said  to  have  wandered  aimlessly  over  the 
face  of  the  earth. 

Following  the  handcarts  of  the  Mormons  came  the 
ox  teams  of  llussell,  Majors  and  Company,  taking 
supplies  to  the  army  in  Utah.  And  it  used  to  take 
them  from  twenty  to  thirty  days  to  drag  the  wag- 
ons from  the  river  to  Fort  Kearney,  three  hundred 
miles. 

A  few  years  later  the  Overland  ^lail  Company 
transferred  their  post  coaches  from  the  southern  to 
this  the  central  route,  and  then  the  dust  began  to  fly. 
The  stage  coaches  soon  overhauled  the  pilgrims  and 
the  stage  driver,  and  station  hands,  one  writer  tells 
us,  began  to  make  trouble  for  the  Mormons  by  marry- 
ing "  off  wheelers,"  "  nigh  leaders,"  and  "  swing  girls  " 
out  of  the  handcart  teams. 

After  "  roughing  it "  across  the  continent  in  one 
of  these  rock-a-bye  wagons,  Mark  Twain  wrote: 

"  How  the  frantic  animals  did  scamper!  It  was  a 
fierce  and  furious  gallop,  and  the  gait  never  altered 
for  a  moment  till  we  reeled  off  ten  or  twelve  miles 
and  swept  up  to  the  next  collection  of  little  station 
huts  and  stables. 

"  At  4  p.  M.  we  crossed  a  branch  of  the  river,  and 
at  5  p.  M.  we  crossed  the  Platte  itself  and  landed  at 
Kearney,  fifty-six  hours  from  St.  Joe,  three  hundred 
miles." 

Looking  back  at  the  bull  team,  that  was  simply 
flying. 

A  few  years  later  an  enthusiast  who  crossed  the 


THE  WEST  TO-DAY. 


275 


plains  on  one  of  the  early  "  Golden  Gate  "  express 
trains  wrote  the  New  York  Times: 

"  At  4  p.  M.  Sunday  we  rolled  out  of  the  station 
at  Omaha  and  started  on  our  long  jaunt."  Then  fol- 
lowed a  lengthy  description  of  the  ride,  of  the  writer's 
first  dinner  "  in  one  of  Pullman's  hotels  on  wheels," 
where  they  drank  champagne  at  thirty  miles  an  hour, 
"  and  never  spilled  a  drop." 

"  After  dinner,"  the  traveller  tells  us,  "  we  repaired 
to  our  drawing-room  car  and  intoned  that  grand  old 
hymn.  Praise  God  from  whom  all  blessings  flow.  Then 
to  bed  in  luxurious  coaches,  where  we  slept  the  sleep 
of  the  just,  and  only  awoke  the  next  morning  (Mon- 
day) at  eight  o'clock,  to  find  ourselves  at  the  cross- 
ing of  the  North  Platte,  fifteen  hours  and  forty  min- 
utes out  from  Omaha,  three  hundred  mih'i" 

That  must  have  made  Ben  IloUiday^  crack  stage 
drivers  wish  they  had  never  been. 

How  do  they  do  this  three  hundred  miles  of  desert 
to-day?  The  reader  can  enter  a  sleeper  coupled  to 
the  fast  mail  leaving  Omaha  at  6  p.  m.  and  stand  almost 
at  the  foot  of  Pike's  Peak,  at  the  other  edge  of  the 
"  desert,"  when  the  sun  is  coming  out  of  the  plains  on 
the  following  morning.  At  midnight  he  will  have 
crossed  the  Platte,  making  the  oft-travelled  "three 
hundred  miles  "  in  six  hours.  That  beats  the  early 
express  as  badly  as  that  train  beat  the  stage,  or  as  the 
stage  beat  the  freighters. 

If  you  care  to  carry  the  comparison  a  few  thousand 
years  back  of  the  bull  team,  it  took  Moses  forty  years 
tc  put  three  hundred  miles  of  desert  behind  him. 

Wonderful,  indeed,  are  the  changes  that  have  taken 


276 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


place  out  there  within  a  third  of  a  century.     Far 
greater  than  any  change  in  the  character  of  the  coun- 
try and  the  mode  and  comforts  of  travel  is  the  change 
in  the  character  of  the  people  who  inliahit  the  far 
West  to-day.    One  may  not  paint  a  pretty  picture  of 
the  West  in  the  days  of  the  stage  coach  and  the  pony 
express.  Here  and  there  you  meet  a  cattleman,  a  miner, 
a  mining  engineer,  or  a  missionary,  but  a  majority  of 
the  people  you  passed  on  the  trail  were  criminals.    The 
division  superintendent  on  the  stage  line  might  be  a 
gentleman  or  an  outlaw,  or  both,  according  to  the  re- 
quirements of  the  division.     When  the  stage  stopped 
at  a  station,  an  assassin  brought  out  the  fresh  horses, 
while  perhaps  a  road  agent  off  duty  led  the  tired  team 
away.     When  you  sat  to  dinner  at  the  stage  station, 
you  were  apt  to  find  a  desperado  at  the  head  of  the 
table.     A  half-breed  raised  on  the  warpath  admired 
your  beautiful  hair,  or  silently  cursed  you  for  being 
bald,  while  he  poured  coffee.     A  horse  thief  carried 
the  dishes  away  and  threw  the  crumbs  into  the  face 
of  a  filthy  Goshoot  Indian,  who,  until  the  stage  line 
was  opened,  had  been  hanging  on  the  edge  of  the 
desert  waiting,  along  with  that  four-legged  outcast, 
the  coyote,  for  something  to  die. 

These  Indians  were  too  indolent  to  band  together. 
They  had  no  tribe  and  no  village.  Too  lazy. to  carry 
a  bow  and  arrow,  they  slunk,  filthy  as  swine,  by  the 
trail,  competing  with  the  vulture  for  a  living.  Other 
Indians,  more  ambitious,  would  lie  in  wait  for  the 
Btage,  which  travelled  day  and  night,  and  "rub  the 
whites  all  out.'-  And  then  there  were  always  the  white, 
or  half  white,  savages — road  agents  and  other  assas- 


THE  WEST  TO-DAY. 


211 


sins.  Highway  robbery  was  practised  apparently  for 
pastime  by  some  of  these  wolves.  One  division  became 
so  unsafe  that  the  stage  company  was  obliged  to  install 
a  notorious  outlaw  in  the  otHce  of  division  superin- 
tendent. He  filled  the  position,  and  fitted  into  the 
community  beautifully.  Where  there  had  been  whole- 
sale horse  stealing,  stabbing  in  the  dark,  and  shooting 
by  day,  he  quieted  the  "  hands  "  down,  and  when  he 
was  removed  to  reform  another  division  he  left  behind 
him  a  reorganized  force,  tranquillity,  and  a  graveyard. 
Ever?  the  Indians,  whole  tribes  of  them,  dreaded  and 
respected  this  man,  and  the  stage  started  by  him  usu- 
ally went  through  on  time.  He  was  ever  loyal  to  his 
employers,  and  if  the  outlaws,  thieves,  and  murderers 
imposed  upon  or  abused  the  few  honest  helpers  em- 
ployed about  the  station,  he  shot  them  down  as  he 
would  have  shot  wolves  among  the  stock.  He  was  a 
most  useful  man  in  his  day,  but  the  constant  bathing 
in  blood  hardened  him.  He  took  to  drink  and  to  in- 
discriminate killing  of  people  who  did  not  deserve  it, 
who  were  not  even  in  the  employ  of  the  stage  company. 
Finally  he  tore  up  a  summons  sent  him  by  a  Cali- 
fornia vigilance  committee,  and  they  arrested  him. 
He  was  counted  one  of  the  bravest  men  that  ever  saw 
the  West,  being  utterly  indifferent  to  danger.  He  had 
sent  dozens  of  men  into  the  unknown — some  of  them 
the  hardest  that  that  hard  country  had  produced — 
but  when  his  time  came,  when  they  put  the  awful 
noose  about  his  neck,  and  he  stood  at  the  open  door 
of  death,  he  wept  and  begged,  and  perished  miserably. 
These  unpleasant  pictures  are  shown  to  bring  the 
reader  to  a  full  appreciation  of  the  condition  of  the 


278 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 


country  when  our  hero,  the  locating  engineer,  entered 
it.  There  was  no  legal  restraint  tliere,  no  coroner's 
jury  to  come  nosing  around  asking  awkward  (ques- 
tions. It  was  not  that  the  West  was  had,  hut  hecauso 
it  was  wild  and  wide,  for  many  of  the  outlaws,  like 
our  superintendent,  had  heen  reared  in  the  States, 
within  the  sou?  d  of  a  church  hell,  and  had  gone  to 
the  wilderness  to  lose  themselves.  The  })athfinders 
who  first  went  out  to  find  a  way  for  the  railroad,  and 
many  who  followed  them,  found  the  West  a  veritahle 
hell,  filled  with  wild  heasts  and  wilder  men.  When 
the  road  makers  followed  with  an  army  of  workmen, 
many  of  them  reckless,  and  some  of  them  desperate, 
they  built  the  temporary  communities,  full  lust 
and  gold,  that  were  so  graphically  and  power  ^  de- 
scribed by  Mr.  Stevenson.  When  these  heroic  pioneers 
pushed  on  toward  the  Pacific  they  left  an  unbroken 
line  of  railroad  behind  them,  reaching  back  to  civiliza- 
tion, and  a  broken  line  of  graves. 

The  towns  that  sprang  up  along  the  line  and  the 
mining  camps  that  were  opened  by  the  railroad  were 
wicked  places  for  a  time.  The  men  were  all  murdered 
who  filled  the  first  twenty-six  graves  at  Virginia  City, 
Nev.,  and  the  place  was  not  reckoned  uncommonly 
tough  at  the  time.  Many  good  men,  as  well  as  bad 
ones,  went  down  in  the  fight  for  the  West.  It  cost 
blood  to  conquer  the  country,  but  what  is  Cuba  to  this? 
What  is  all  the  kingdom  of  Spain,  compared  with  the 
vast  empire  that  was  thrown  open  when  the  last  spike 
was  driven  in  the  first  Pacific  railroad  ? 

The  bad  Indian  and  the  outlaw  shrank  from  the 
glare  of  the  headlight  of  that  great  civilizer,  the  loco- 


THE  WEST  TO-DAY. 


279 


motive.  In  a  little  while  the  had  man  was  pushed 
aside  or  trampled  upon  hy  the  vast  army  of  honest, 
fearless,  fair-lighting  young  men,  the  flower  of  this  fair 
land,  the  bravest,  best  blood  of  the  civilized  vvorld, 
who  had  come  out  to  help  develop  the  West  that  had 
been  opened  by  the  daring  railroad  engineer. 

Presently  the  lawyer  came  to  this  lawless  land, 
the  life  insurance  agent,  the  preacher,  and  the  play- 
actor, and  finally  a  man  and  his  wife— Martria  and 
"Martha's  younkit"— and  all  the  miners  dfoppod 
their  tools  and  went  down  to  the  camp  at  the  bottom 
of  the  gulch  to  see  the  woman.  Stubble-faced  men 
gave  small  sacks  of  gold  dust  for  the  privilege  of  "  kiss- 
in'  the  kid." 

By-and-bye,  when  the  good  red  man  got  used  to 
the  whistle  of  the  locomotive,  he  came  into  the  camp 
that  the  white  man  had  made,  and  learned  to  work  in 
the  shops  and  mines. 

The  worthless  Indian  has  perished — gone  with  the 
buffalo,  the  bad  man,  the  stage  coach,  and  the  desert, 
for  there  is  no  desert  now.  Where  a  little  while  ago 
the  sage  and  cactus  grew,  June  roses  bloom  to-day. 
All  this  change  has  come  about  since  the  West  was 
awakened  by  the  first  wild  scream  of  the  locomotive 
and  the  sun-dried  plain  was  made  to  tremble  under  its 
whirling  wheels.  A  thousand  years  of  bull  teams, 
handcarts,  and  pack  trains  could  not  have  wrought 
what  the  railroad  achieved  here  in  a  quarter  of  a 
century. 

The  grand,  glorious,  and  still  growing  West  could 
not  have  been  made  but  for  the  railroad,  and  the  rail- 
road could  only  be  built  by  the  dauntless  pioneers  who 


280 


THE  STORY  OP  THE  RAILROAD. 


set  their  faces  to  the  wilderness  and  held  them  there 
for  five  weary  years,  nor  turned  nor  glanced  back  until 
the  trail  had  been  blazed  and  their  tired  feet  felt  the 
moist,  cool  sands  of  the  Pacific.  When  the  graders  fol- 
lowed and  the  work  was  finished,  two  thousand  miles 
of  rails  reached  from  the  edge  of  civilization  to  the 
Golden  Gate. 

Many  were  missmg  when  the  roll  was  called.  Some 
were  sleeping  in  the  broad  prairies  where  the  wild  grass 
wave(J,  some  among  the  desert  dunes,  and  others  in 
the  mountain  passes.  As  I  write  this  last  page  my 
countrymen  are  moistening  two  sides  of  the  earth  with 
their  blood.  These  are  heroes,  and  so  were  those  pio- 
neers who  perished  fignting  for  that  magnificent  West, 
the  pride  and  glory  of  America. 


THE  END. 


O 


wmffiHmmfKm,  fim  i  ip-u.mn!..ii!iipji)u 


